


Encased In Case I Need It

by verbaepulchellae



Series: Offer me my deathless death [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Background becho, Character with PTSD, Discussions of past torture, F/M, Mama!Clarke, Rebuilding of relationships, Reunion, Season 5 AU, reconnection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-03-16 09:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13633326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaepulchellae/pseuds/verbaepulchellae
Summary: “So,” Clarke says quietly, stepping up carefully next to Bellamy’s side. Her heart beats too fast in her chest and a voice in the back of her head whispers at her to be careful, but she can’t help herself. She misses him so much. “This beard thing is new.”Bellamy closes his eyes against the sun. “Stop,” he says quietly, voice half pleading.Clarke bites her lip, but she never was good at following other people’s advice.  “Bellamy, what’s going-”“I said stop,” he snaps, voice ragged. He looks at her suddenly, full on and eyes a little wild as he takes her in and then he shakes his head. “Why are you here?”***Her friends have finally come back to Earth. It's been six years. Somethings have changed more than others.





	1. Day 2,200

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow up to Take me to Church, obviously, which you don't necessarily have to read for this to make sense, but it provides context. And, on that note, thank you for all the amazing reviews! I was trying to respond to everyone and then grad school started kicking my ass again and clearly that goal was not achieved.
> 
> Title comes from "Hunger of the Pine" by Alt-J, the cover of which, by Vaults, is basically half of what I listen to when I'm working on this.

“Show me Raven,” Madi says, nuzzling her head into Clarke’s shoulder and peering up at the sky. Clarke laughs a little and leans back to look up at the uncountable stars.

“See that one?”

“Which one?”

“ _That_ one.”

“ _Clarke._ ”

“Just follow my finger, Madi,” Clarke teases her and then relents. “See the cluster of three stars there? Right above the tallest pine?” Madi nods and Clarke traces her finger up further, delineating the pattern that forms something like a wrench. “That’s Raven’s constellation.”

“And Harper?” Madi asks cuddling closer. 

“Count five stars up from Raven,” Clarke tells her and they walk their extended hands up together to find the arc of stars that reminded Clarke of her friend’s high forehead.

“And Bellamy?”

“You know that one,” Clarke says and Madi giggles and points to the the brightest star.

“Clarke, why does he only get one?”

“He only needs one,” Clarke says and rocks Madi gently against her as the little girl yawns and cuddles closer. Their fire is down to embers and the night’s getting colder. The rover is a promising nest of blankets and stuffed sacks of sweet dried grasses and furs to sleep on, but Clarke lets them linger under the night sky a little longer. 

“Why?” Madi wheedles because she knows bedtime is coming and it doesn’t matter if they’re the only two people on the surface of the earth, she still resists the day ending.

“People used to use that star to know if they were headed in the right direction. Bellamy always kept us on course.”

“Hmm,” Madi hums thoughtfully. Clare hears her try to tamp down a yawn and smiles. “Do you think they’ll like me, when they come back down?”

It’s an old question, but Clarke’s never any less fervent in her answer. “They’ll love you.”

“Even Murphy?”

“If he doesn’t we’ll just eat him up,” Clarke says and makes Madi shriek as she pretends to try to nibble on the little girl’s face. “Alright,” Clarke chuckles, stopping one of Madi’s flailing arms from hitting her across the face. “It’s time for bed.”

“Five more minutes?”

“Five more minutes now and it’ll be thirty minutes more that you’ll want in the morning. Bed, _ai natbleda._ ”

“Can I have a story?”

“If you go quickly to bed, and let me think about it, yes,” Clarke says and Madi leaps up in a flurry of limbs, mumbling to herself as she completes her chores, raking back any leaves from around their firepit and collecting the tools they’d both let lie around their makeshift camp on their herb gathering excursion. Clarke gives her a five minute headstart of bedding down into the Rover. Madi likes to to have her own bedtime routine before Clarke joins her, her own time to commune with the loved ones she lost when Primefaya came.

Clarke pushes herself up and banks the fire, sets aside rations of food that they’ll use for breakfast and then rolls up the reed mats they’ve been resting on. A soft wind rustles through the branches above her, and Clarke tilts her head back to look up once more at the stars. Sometimes when she squints hard enough she thinks she sees Go-Sci, a faint light that’s sometimes there, sometimes not. 

“Tomorrow?” Clarke asks the sky but it doesn’t answer her. The wind lifts her hair, shocks goosebumps down her neck and Clarke closes her eyes and leans into it.

She catches the tail end of Madi’s murmuring as she approaches the Rover. “ _-and then we bundled them up and hung them up to dry. Like you taught me. I have to go to sleep now, but I miss you. I love you Mama, Papa and baby Yaro.”_ She waits until Madi is quiet for a minute before she intentionally steps on a stick and then clambers into the back of the Rover with her charge.

“Okay,” Clarke whispers, snuggling into the furs and the pillows. “What story do you want tonight?”

“I want the story of the tower. When the Bravest, Most Badass Warrior had to choose.”

“Oh _that_ one,” Clarke laughs. In the darkness, her words conjure the dark night skies, the unknown faces of grounders, the itch of her eye makeup and Lexa’s regal posture up on the dias. Bellamy is a storm of black leather and guns and relief and hope and fear.

“She wanted to go with him,” Madi fills in sleepily.

“She did but-”

“But she also wanted to stay.”

“And she didn’t know how else to help her people.”

“There was no easy choice,” Madi says and Clarke hears her shift and cuddle deeper into their makeshift bed. 

“That’s right. She did the best she could.”

Bellamy leaves and Clarke ends the story looking down into Lexa’s green eyes. Madi’s asleep before it ends, her breath even and sweet in it’s puffs against Clarke’s shoulder. Clarke hums to herself thoughtfully. That story, although exciting and dramatic for Madi, always leaves Clarke feeling anxious and lonely. She turns her mind further back, back to the Dropship and the dark night she and Bellamy came home, bruised and bloodied and a little raw from their honesty, the guns slung over their shoulders a helpfully distracting weight.

She traces the threads of that story into their Comms tent until Jaha pardons Bellamy and the relief that saturated both their bodies is physical again through her recounting. She falls asleep thinking of her best friend, but that’s nothing new. When she wakes, it’s to gentle rains against the sides of the Rover, early grey mist lapping at their feet. 

She doesn’t know yet the ships will come. She doesn’t know that within four hours, she’ll kill for the first time again in six years, a single headshot when she’s staring down the barrel of another rifle. She doesn’t know they’re about to hide out for thirty-six hours, tucked into underbrush as heavy booted feet and searchlights patrol looking for them.

All she knows, is that today, like all the other 2,198 days she’s been waiting, could be the day that her friends come home. And in that thought, she’s happy.

***

The last Eligius ship to land is the mothership; a big, hulking ship that has little grace or elegance to its design. It looks old, more beat up than the Ark did, even after it fell to Earth. It’s reentry into the atmosphere pulls the men and women dressed all in black back towards their ships and Clarke lets out a slow breath.

Next to her, Madi shifts, disrupting the layer of branches that Clarke had covered her with. “What now?” Madi whispers. Her voice trembles a little, even in her whisper, but her eyes are fierce. She’s trying to be brave, like she thinks Clarke is. 

“Someone important is on that ship,” Clarke tells her. “Our first bet is seeing if we can reach that person and work something out.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Madi asks. “Clarke, what if they’re the same as the monsters from your stories.”

Clarke smiles grimly at Madi. “Can’t find out until I talk to them, can we?”

“Will they listen to you after you killed one of them?”

“Wait for me at the Rover.”

“Clarke-”

“If I’m not back by sun down, or if anyone finds you and I’m not there, you drive home, ok?”

“But Clarke-”

She cuts Madi off with a brief kiss on the forehead and then pushes herself up into a crouch. “Go on, Madi.”

Madi bites her lip, but she shakes off the underbrush nearly silently and Clarke sees her off back toward where they hid the Rover in the mouth of cave, long trailing vines and shrubs disguising it’s entrance. 

When all Clarke can hear is the soft rustle of trees, she creeps towards the ships, a good mile away. Within a quarter mile, she can hear them: the clanking and shouting of a ship being disembarked. It brings an odd rush back of the noise and chaos of landing on the ground herself so long ago. Clarke shakes the memory of moss filtered sunlight and wonder from her memory and finds a vantage point in a tall spruce to watch the Eligius ships unload.

The majority of the crew wear black, fitted jackets and fatigues, and even from a distance Clarke can tell they’ve been torn and layered and reinforced countless times over. A tingle of fear goes through her, because she had to have known, on some level already, but that alone reinforces it, that these people, like her people, have been gone from the Earth for a very long time. 

Like their ship, their equipment and gear is all worn and outdated, things that would have been scrap metal soldered into the Ark Mainframe are handled like prize possessions as Clarke looks on, machinery unloaded and laid out with care and fussing. But even in the midst and swirl of bodies and old tech and equipment, it’s hard to miss the tall, regal woman that stands at the mouth of the old ship and looks on. Her dirty blonde hair is swept up into a military grade bun on her head, and her stance is wide legged, arms crossed under her breasts as she looks over the landing sight. Even from a distance, her expression is severe and Clarke’s focus narrows entirely to her. She knows power when she sees it, even after years of being alone.

Maybe that’s why she misses them at first: the two women that come off the side ramp of the ship, laughing and pouncing on each other, wrestling each other to the ground. Clarke only finds them because of the peals of their laughter in the midst of the otherwise orderly work. They’re dressed like the others, layered and hemmed black on black but one of them... one of them has face tattoos. 

Clarke’s heart stops and she shifts, the branch she’s on shaking beneath her. It can’t be, she tells the almost sick soaring hope in her chest. She never really new either of them that well, but no one else in the camp has the swirling, thick tattoos on their faces, which means-

“Emori!” Clarke’s head whips right, because she knows that voice. Sardonic, dry, somehow affectionate underneath it. There’s no mistaking John Murphy, even after six years. He’s taller, broader, his hair cut shorter, but it’s him. He’s got the same sharply angled features, the same walk that’s got a little bit of a slink and swagger to it, like he’s trying to be noticed and avoid attention all at once. Clarke feels the bite of the rough bark into the palm of her hand and consciously relaxes her grip. 

_Wait_ , she tells herself. _Wait._

Murphy stops to stand with the tusseling girls on the ground, and he says something to them that Clarke can’t hear, the noise of the dropsite drowning out any speaking voices. Emori and the other girl on the ground flop onto their backs, and for the first time Clarke realizes the other girl is Echo, her elegant features hardly changed with age. Both Echo and Emori are clearly still giggling although they’ve given up their wrestling. Clarke knows she should be watching the woman on the ramp, but she can’t tear her eyes away from Murphy and Emori- and then Emori reaches out to snag the ankle of a passing woman and Clarke recognizes Harper… and there’s Monty. Raven joins the small huddle of them not two minutes later and something wet hits Clarke’s hand. She looks down and a few more drops fall. Clarke realizes she’s crying and scrubs her eyes.

Every part of her is screaming at her to go to her friends, her people. She’s lived every day of the last two thousand and two hundred days waiting for them, and yet she holds herself back. They’re with people that just tried to kill her and Madi, and who knows if she’d make it to them without being shot at again. Who knows if they’d even… no. They would recognize her, Clarke tells herself. They’d remember her. Six years is a long time, but there’s no way they would have forgotten her- she hasn’t forgotten them. _Wait_ , she tells herself. There would be time, once the camp settled, once things were quieter to go to them. She had to use her head. Besides, someone’s missing, but she can’t think too hard about that.

Her resolve lasts as long as it takes Bellamy to step from inside the ship and blink in the sunshine. Clarke can’t help the noise she makes, a soft, low keening sound, because she hadn’t realized how much she still desperately missed him until she’s watching him lift his face into the soft breeze, scanning the trees around them. He’s got a beard now, which somehow suits him, Clarke thinks, her heart racing in her chest, her hands securing her perch on the branch shaking. He’s older, his hair longer to match to his beard but Clarke feels like she’s eighteen again and Bellamy’s opening the door to Mount Weather- it feels like surfacing for air after holding her breath for far too long.

He joins the huddle of the others and Clarke is moving before she means to. It’s too late to stop herself, because Bellamy is back on Earth, and everything is going to be ok. 

She swings down from the branch, launching herself over the bluebells that border the shady division between wood and clearing. She lands roughly on her feet and startles a nearby crew member. He shouts something and across camp, Clarke catches someone leveling a gun at her. She feints right, a shot is fired, and she swerves and ducks as the bullet whizzes over her head. She’s in the thick of bodies now, enough movement around her to protect her from any rapid fire and she sees Raven lift a hand and shout.

And then she’s safe. It’s basic, instinctual nature to catch Bellamy up in a hug, falling into him as naturally as a wave hits the shore. He’s broad under her, solid and warm and alive and it sends a shudder through her as she presses her face into the familiar crook of his shoulder, because oh god, he’s alive. 

They’re all alive, they made it. Six years in space on a last ditch desperate attempt to survive and they’re finally home. Clarke can’t remember a moment of purer joy than what’s exploding in her chest and radiating out through her. And Bellamy- he smells like sterilized space and a little like machine oil, but underneath that, he smells the way he did six years ago. He smells like Bellamy Blake.

“ _Bellamy,”_ she gasps. She can feel the thump of his heartbeat tick up, she’s pressed that tight against him. But his arms don’t cinch closed and Clarke realizes with a little laugh that he’s as surprised as she is. 

She lets him go and dares a half step back, scrubbing a little at the tears on her cheeks, so she can get a good look at him. “Bellamy, it’s me.” God, she must look ridiculous, her smile making her cheeks ache it’s so big. “It’s--”

“Clarke?” Harper gasps. But Clarke doesn’t hear her. 

Bellamy has gone still, hasn’t moved since she flung herself into him. He’s staring, with deadened, blank eyes, right through her. The unbridled relief and joy that had taken flight is leaded with a sick shock and plummets back down, cold and near lifeless. 

“Clarke, is that really you?” Clarke drags her eyes from Bellamy’s stoney expression to find Raven, hands lifted to cover her mouth.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Clarke says, suddenly unsure of what to do. She feels all wrong, chilled in the sunlight, her body crawling with something _off_ , and this isn’t right. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. “Hi,” she says awkwardly.

“Hi?” Raven demands. And then the girl takes two steps and pulls Clarke into her close and locking her arms around her. “Six years and all I get is a goddamn ‘hi’?” Her voice is husky and Clarke realizes Raven’s crying too and she melts into her friend, burying her face in Raven’s shoulder and hugging her back just as fiercely.

“Jesus, how are you alive?” Raven asks.

“Let’s not go around deifying Clarke just yet,” Murphy drawls, and it startles a laugh from Clarke as Raven lets her go, but she’s barely free of her arms before Monty’s barreled into her and enclosed her in another hug. 

“Hi, Monty,” Clarke breathes. He’s grown, still slight in his lithe build but taller, stronger. 

After Monty, she’s in Harper’s arms, the blonde girl openly crying. Murphy slaps her lightly on the back when Harper lets her go, which is about as much as she can stand, because after six years with just Madi’s sweet, childish affection, so much touch is starting to feel overwhelming.

She sneaks a glance at Bellamy, unsure, and he’s turned half away from her and is talking to Echo in a low murmur that Clarke can’t make out. Echo catches her glance and offers Clarke a thin lipped smile. 

“Bellamy, it’s _Clarke_.” Clarke looks in surprise at Emori, her black hair piled in a messy bun on her head. She hasn’t said anything yet, but she’s staring at Bellamy with a certain kind of disbelief. Bellamy flinches and his head swings in Clarke’s direction, but when he lifts his eyes he’s looking over her shoulder. 

“Hey,” he gruffs. And then he clears his throat. “Let’s get back to work.” He turns abruptly and heads back in the direction of the Eligius ship, head ducked low. Clarke watches him go, and then with a distinct prickle, raises her eyes just above Bellamy’s form.

The tall woman on the ship’s entrance is watching her, and when Clarke makes eye contact with her, she feels a shock of malice.

“Hey, come on,” Raven says, touching her arm. “Come with me. We need to introduce you to Charmaine.”

***

Charmaine hears Raven’s brief explanation of who Clarke is with an unimpressed raised eyebrow as she gives Clarke a once over. In her presence, with the captain buttoned up to the throat in her uniform and former manacles worn like prized bracelets on her wrists, Clarke feels the years of dirt and mud and blood on her skin. She’s not ashamed of those years, but she’s feels the sharp disparity of who she was and who she is. 

“You are the one who shot one of our landing party?” Charmaine asks her cooly, her voice clipped in an accent that died out a long time ago on the Ark.

“Only because he tried to kill me,” Clarke answers.

“You must have startled him. We believed the Earth was uninhabited.”

“Well, surprise. It’s not.” She thinks of the thick boots crushing dried leaves and the searchlights that swept through the night. A tingle goes down her spine. Charmaine is lying. 

“Clarke is the reason we were up on Go-Sci,” Raven says. Her tone is even, but Clarke hears the edge. “She’s the reason you have your best mechanic.”

Charmaine’s mouth twitches. “Careful, Reyes.”

“I’m just saying,” Raven says, lifting her hands in a gesture that is anything but ‘just saying’. “Without Clarke, I wouldn’t have been able to fix that engine failure last year.”

“What you are saying,” Charmaine says cooly. “Is without your friend, none of us would be here.” She levels her calculating grey eyes on Clarke. “Murder is punishable by death to us. However, given the circumstances I’ll make an exception. You can stay.”

“It’s not just me,” Clarke says and Charmaine lifts an eyebrow even as Raven’s head whips around to her. “I have a daughter. She stays too.”

Charmaine tsks but does little more. Clarke takes it as assent.

“You have a daughter?” Raven is hardly able to contain herself once Charmaine is out of earshot. Around them, a camp is growing with a precision that she and Bellamy had never managed to affect in their month at the Dropship. Clarke catalogues it as they walk back toward the edge of the new settlement, but she doesn’t have much room to process it. The hours are passing, and Madi is waiting for her.

“Adopted,” Clarke clarifies dryly. “Please, Raven. Nighblood saved me from Primefaya, it didn’t facilitate immaculate conception. I have to agree with Murphy on this one-”

“Oh shut up,” Raven laughs, rolling her eyes. “I’m the genius around here. I know what Nightblood can and can’t do, thank you very much.” Raven squeezes her arm affectionately and when Clarke looks at her, she’s still staring at Clarke in wonder. “I just thought maybe, back then-- with the world ending and all-- you and-”

“No,” Clarke says abruptly, suddenly afraid of what Raven’s going to say. “No, Finn was the last guy I was with.”

A flash of pain crosses Raven’s face but she schools herself quickly. “Gotcha.”

“Raven, sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s history, right? Our history.” Raven cuffs an arm around Clarke’s neck and tugs her into another loose hug. Clarke curls a shaky hand around Raven’s wrist and hangs on. Part of her is still worried she’s going to wake up grasping at the darkness in her cabin. Part of her almost wants to, because if this is reality, it’s just off enough to leave her reeling. It reminds her of old stories of wishes being granted, of wishes coming out wrong.

“So this kid-”

“Madi.”

“Madi. She’s got nightblood too?”

Clarke nods. 

“Are there others? No? What about the bunker? Abby?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke admits. “I haven’t made contact with them.”

“Contact?”

“I have a radio,” Clarke says. “I tried to reach them. And you.” Talking like this is hard, awkward. Her tongue feels funny in her mouth. She swallows.

Raven closes her eyes. “Our comms short circuited after they received the signal to turn on the power. I’m sorry, Clarke. I never could fix them with what we had.”

Clarke shrugs it off. She feels the back of her neck prickle and turns to look over her shoulder. The Eligius crew aren’t afraid of watching her, a clear stranger in their midst. It makes her uneasy, so many people. 

Raven glances over her shoulder too and then shakes her head. “Hey, ignore them. They all have terrible people skills.”

“I’ll fit right in then,” Clarke says and Raven snorts. Six years has given Raven back her smile, and she’s free with it. She’s still got a brace on her leg, but it’s a higher grade, from what Clarke can tell. Raven’s limp is less pronounced, and she seems far more comfortable moving in this one than she ever did in the one that Wick fashioned for her out of scrap metal. 

“You look really good,” Clarke tells her, unable to hold it back. Raven beams at her.

“I’d say the same, but I’m biased. You being alive is a good look regardless of anything else.” She pauses and cocks her head at Clarke. “Aside from alive, how are you actually?”

Clarke hesitates. “Maybe you’ll be able to tell me,” she says. “I haven’t had to answer that question in a while.”

Raven gives a short laugh. “Fair enough. If I remember right, we were always honest with each other.”

“That’s how I remember it too,” Clarke says, and feels something loosen in her chest. Raven remembers her. Raven knows her. 

“Go get your kid,” Raven tells her. “And then come back, ok?”

“I will.” To her surprise, Raven pulls her into another quick hug, brief but tight and Clarke remembers again how much she’s missed being hugged by an adult. “Raven,” she says, before she can stop herself. “What’s wrong with Bellamy?”

“Wrong? Nothing. He’s...” Raven trails off and frowns. “He’s just Bellamy.”

“It’s like he didn’t recognize me,” Clarke says, because to say _it’s like he didn’t see me_ sounds insane even to her own ears.

Raven hesitates at that. “Hey, it’s you. He’d never not remember you.” It’s not a straight up answer, but it’s enough to momentarily stall the creeping wrongness that’s curling in her stomach. “He’s just like that, you know?” Raven continues. “Give him some time and whatever weird reaction that was, he’ll get over it.”

“Ok. Ok,” Clarke breathes out and nods, “Thanks.”

“I’ll see you soon. Find me when you’re back, ok? I’ll be working on breaking down some of our equipment. Everyone knows me, so I won’t be hard to find.” She winks at Clarke and Clarke chuckles.

***

Clarke knows she’s being followed five minutes after she leaves camp. No one is a silent hunter, especially someone who hasn’t been on Earth in over a hundred years. Branches creak. Leaves whisper without wind. The veil of silenced bird calls extends further back than it should. Clarke turns and waits. 

For a moment, the forest keeps it’s secrets, and then when Clarke crosses her arms, she hears a laugh and a man steps from behind a tree, his hands lifted. 

“You have sharp ears.” 

“You have loud feet. Why are you following me?”

“To get to know you,” the man admits. He pushes back his hood, and like the others, his face is lined past his otherwise youthful looks. His brown beard is greying, his grey hair limp and shaggy, but his eyes are sharp. “And to know the land.”

“Everyone else in your crew is working,” Clarke says. “Does your Captain know you’re here?”

The man smiles. “You’re asking if Charmaine told me to follow you, aren’t you? Can you keep a secret?”

The same frission goes down Clarke’s spine. There are factions. There is danger. Her friends are caught up in this. She and Madi are now caught up in this. 

“Did she?”

“She’s concerned with other things.” The man says, blithely. “They say you survived on Earth when no one else could. Now if I was anybody who had a say in things, I’d say you were pretty valuable.”

“Valuable things don’t come free,” Clarke says carefully and then man grins, bearing his teeth. 

“No, they don’t. Unless they’re stolen, or their owner is persuaded to gift them.”

The hair on the back of Clarke’s neck stands on end. She has a knife in her belt and another in her boot. Her rifle is slung across her back, but at this range it’s not all that useful. 

“Don’t worry,” the man says, expression easing into what might actually be a smile. “I’m willing to barter.”

“I’ve got nothing to teach you. You’re on the ground now: you’re a grounder. In my experience, the best kinds of lessons are hands on learning.”

There’s a faint glimmer of amusement in the man’s eyes. “That’s my memory of it. Blood and bone always did make a lasting impression. Listen, I’m not your enemy. At least, I don’t have to be.”

“If I’m in the market for friends, I’ll let you know,” Clarke promises. “But I need to know I can trust them first.”

The man raises his hands easily, steps back, giving up nothing. “Fair enough. I’m heading back to the ship. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Clarke waits a long time after the man leaves, until the bird song returns to the forest around her, and then she cuts left through the trees and zig zags her way up through a craggy clearing, scales a tree quickly, and waits. When she’s sure she’s no longer being followed she lets out a slow breath and drops back to the ground. The sun is beginning it’s descent and Clarke takes the fastest route she knows back to the cave and to Madi. 

When she pushes back the curtain of brush and vines from the mouth of the cave, all she sees for a moment is the Rover and her heart stops. “Madi?” she calls softly and then, from behind a small cluster of rocks, Madi uncurls, slightly stiffly, rifle in hand. Her fingers are white from the grip she’s held, her face pale and her eyes are wet with tears. 

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” she chokes and Clarke crosses to her in a few quick steps and wraps her up in a hug. Madi clings to her and buries her face in Clarke’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Clarke says, rocking Madi a little, tucking her own nose into Madi’s hair. “Are you okay, _ai natbleda_?”

“I’m ok,” Madi sniffs. “Are you?”

“Yeah, see?” Clarke asks, drawing back a little so they can look at each other. “I’m just fine.”

“Are they monsters?” Madi asks her, after she’s given Clarke a once over, a slight tremble to her voice. 

“No, they’re just people,” Clarke says, and drops down to sit on the rocks so she can look Madi in the face. “And guess who’s with them?”

Madi’s eyes light up and her eyebrows climb comically high. “They’re back?” she whispers and Clarke nods and Madi gives a little yelp of excitement. She scrubs the her eyes with the back of her hand, wiping away the last of her tears. 

“But Madi, listen,” Clarke says gently and takes Madi’s hands in hers. “I need you and I to make a promise to each other, ok?”

“Alright,” Madi says, face serious once more. Her small fingers squeeze Clarke’s and Clarke squeezes her right back. “What’s the promise?”

“We don’t tell anyone about our home, ok? Not yet anyway.”

“But you built it for them and-”

“I know,” Clarke says gently. “I built our home for our friends, but our friends are with people I don’t know yet. So it stays our secret for right now, ok? Just between you and me. How does that sound?”

“Does that mean we’re not going home?” Madi asks. 

“For right now, yes,” Clarke says. “We’re going to stay here for a little while longer. Is that ok?”

“I guess so,” Madi says a little reluctantly. “But we get to go home eventually, right?”

“Absolutely,” Clarke promises as she pushes Madi’s hair out of her face. “And hopefully not before too long.”

“What if they ask us where we live?”

“You tell them we lived in the Rover, and that we went on all sorts of exciting adventures. You’ve got lots of stories about that right?”

“Yeah!” Madi says, face lighting up again. “I can tell them about when we discovered the waterfalls?”

“The waterfalls are fair game,” Clarke promises and then stands back up and ruffles Madi’s hair. “Come on, best to get back before it gets to dark.”

Clarke drives the rover back to the ridge that looks out across the valley. To her surprise, it’s not uninhabited. A figure is silhouetted in the brilliant rays of sunset, one that she recognizes with an immediate, fresh pang of longing. 

Bellamy turns as the engine cuts out squinting a little at the Rover. Madi is quiet in the seat next to Clarke. “Who’s that?” she whispers after a moment when Clarke can’t bring herself to open the door and get out.

“That’s…” Clarke hesitates. “That’s Bellamy. You want to come say hello?”

“Can I?” Madi looks anxiously up at Clarke’s face. She hasn’t spoken to anyone but Clarke and the memories of her lost family for five years. For all that she’s talked about being excited about Clarke’s friends coming home, she’s still reasonably shy.

“Come on,” Clarke says. “We can go be brave together.”

Bellamy blinks when Clarke hopes out of the Rover. It’s not the same soft, surprised blink she remembers when she said something he wasn’t expecting, or touched him out of the blue, seeking comfort or just wanting to know he was ok. This is different, like Bellamy’s trying to blink away the glare of overbright lights, like he’s trying to clear his vision. 

“Hey,” Clarke says. Madi tumbles out after her and Bellamy’s focus is drawn to her. Clarke drops an affectionate but careful hand onto Madi’s shoulder, keeping her close. “I’ve got someone who wants to meet you.” 

Bellamy is oddly still, his expression drawn and careful. With her dark hair and blue eyes, Clarke wonders how much Madi might look like Octavia had at her age, how much that accounts for Bellamy’s silence. Madi looks uncertainly up Clarke. 

“That’s Bellamy?” She whispers. “I thought you were friends.”

“We are,” Clarke reassures her, although she thinks it’s just as much for herself as it is for Madi. “Right, Bellamy?” Bellamy grimaces.

“Don’t,” he snaps, suddenly. “Don’t.”

It shocks Clarke to silence and she involuntarily draws Madi back closer to her. Bellamy’s eyes have gone blank again and he draws an unsteady breath, shakes his head abruptly. “This isn’t happening,” he mutters, but it’s more to himself than to either of them. 

“You’ve got quite the view up here,” Echo says, appearing from the shrub lined footpath that winds its way up the steep hill face. She’s slightly flushed from the incline, and it adds a pretty tint to her pale cheeks. “Bellamy, did you- Oh,” she says, hesitating when she sees Clarke and Madi. Her face softens as she says, “Raven told me you had a kid, Clarke. _Ha yun, ai strik lukot. Yu laik Madi?_ ” 

Madi cranes her neck up at Clarke again, face delighted at the Trigedasleng and Clarke manages to smile at her. “Who do you think that is?”

“Is it Echo?” Madi whispers.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Clarke says. 

“ _Yu laik Echo kom Azgeda?”_

Clarke can’t help her smile at Madi’s formality and she cuts a glance out of near forgotten habit at Bellamy, half expecting him to be in on it too. He’s watching Echo with an intensity that surprises Clarke, a kind of bewildered uncertainty that Clarke’s never seen from him before.

“Were you meeting Bellamy?” Echo is asking Madi, when Clarke looks back at her. Clarke lets her hand drop off Madi’s shoulder, and gives her a gentle nudge forward toward Echo. “He’s not as scary as he looks,” Echo promises Madi gently, quietly, like it’s a secret between them, and holds out her hand. Madi trots over to her with one quick glance back at Clarke and shyly takes Echo’s hand.

“Uh, hey,” Bellamy says, clearing his throat, and giving Madi a half smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes. “How’s it going, Madi?”

“Hi, Bellamy,” Madi says, barely loud enough for Clarke to hear, from where she still lingers next to the Rover. “I’m glad you came back down from the sky.”

“Thanks,” Bellamy says, a little awkwardly. “Uh, me too.”

“Madi, do you want to come with me to meet Raven?” Echo glances over her shoulder at Clarke, eyebrows raised, and Clarke gives her a quick nod. “We can give Bellamy and Clarke a chance to talk.”

Madi also looks at Clarke, clearly shy but hopeful. “It’s ok, Madi. Just stay with Echo and Raven, ok?”

Madi nods, but lets go of Echo’s hand to dart back to Clarke and give her a quick hug, reassuring herself, and then trots back over to Echo, looking up at her with an expression of slight awe. 

“Is it true,” Clarke hears Madi say as she follows Echo down the path. “That you saved Clarke from bad men one time?”

Echo’s voice, whatever her answer, becomes indistinguishable as it blends with the general noise of the Eligius camp below, which somehow suddenly doesn’t seem to touch the overlook. Clarke risks a glance at Bellamy and he’s staring at her hard, the same look of bemusement that he was giving Echo. When she meets his eyes, he drops them abruptly and shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“So,” Clarke says quietly, stepping up carefully next to Bellamy’s side. Her heart beats too fast in her chest and a voice in the back of her head whispers at her to be careful, but she can’t help herself. She misses him so much. “This beard thing is new.” 

Bellamy closes his eyes against the sun. “Stop,” he says quietly, voice half pleading. 

Clarke bites her lip, but she never was good at following other people’s advice. “Bellamy, what’s going-”

“I said stop,” he snaps, voice ragged. He looks at her suddenly, full on and eyes a little wild as he takes her in and then he shakes his head. “Why are you here?” 

“I-” Clarke starts but the questions doesn’t make sense. “What?”

Bellamy squints at her. “You’re not--. I don’t know who you are.”

And then he turns on his heel and is halfway down the ragged footpath before Clarke feels like she can breath again. Her stomach aches, like she’s been punched hard enough that she’s had the wind knocked out of her and she has to sit down. Her hands are trembling and she curls them in fists and presses them into the ground, the bite and nip of small rocks against her knuckles a distracting relief from the spinning anxiety that’s threatening to overwhelm her.

Down below, Raven crouches next to Madi and says something that makes Madi’s face light up. Emori is lingering nearby, curious but giving them space. Bellamy passes the group of them and keeps walking, back toward the Eligius ship. When Clarke thinks that she has enough control over her face again so that she won’t upset Madi, she gets up and goes down to join them.

Dinner with the crew is old, chalky MRAs that Clarke hasn’t missed the taste of. The crew’s so large that there’s no attempt to come together, just multiple fire sights spread through the camp, different groups coming together. 

As a show of friendship, Clarke brings out some of the dried jerky she and Madi keep in the Rover and gives some to Charmaine and then sneaks some to her friends as well. Bellamy isn’t insight for most of the night, but when she catches sight of him, he’s close to Charmaine, the two of them talking quietly, Charmaine’s sharp eyes studying Bellamy’s face. 

“Do you want us to build you a lean-to?” Raven asks Clarke, as she gnaws on some of the jerky. “God, I forgot what real food tasted like. Again. I am _never_ going back to space.”

“We’re alright,” Clarke says, letting Madi cuddle under her arm, the little girl is wide eyed but unusually quiet. Neither of them has gotten any real sleep in the last two days, and Clarke can feel Madi beginning to nod off. “All our things are in Rover, we’ll sleep up there.”

They head back up to the overlook not to long after. Clake notes that no one except maybe Echo or Emori would be able to scale this silently in the night, and that gives her some relief. The nagging mistrust of the Eligius crew has only grown stronger throughout the day. Things, she thinks, aren’t quite as they seem.

She and Madi fall into the Rover together, Madi falling asleep almost mid-sentence. No need for a bedtime story tonight, which is a strange relief: Clarke’s not sure she could get through any of the usual favorites tonight without breaking down. Despite her own exhaustion, sleep evades Clarke and she finally slips out of the Rover and settles on the edge of the overlook.

The moon is too bright. It casts the camp below in an eerie, stark relief. Otherworldly. The camp is settling, a long day of debarking and digging in has tired everyone out and, the Eliigus crew bunking down in lean-tos and tents that remind Clarke of the dropship. A few fires are left burning, a few stragglers standing around the flames and talking, and every now and then laughter drifts up to Clarke. Despite their exhaustion, they’re happy to be back on Earth. Who wouldn’t be? 

Clarke doesn’t know how long she sits out, watching the quiet camp. Behind her, an owl hoots; below, someone shouts something, another person laughs; an animal screams as it dies in the woods. Nothing is ever truly silent. Nearly hidden in the darkness, a flap of a tent twitches and Clarke watches Echo quietly leave her lean-to and slip into the one next to hers. Bellamy’s rifle leans against tree that holds it up. 

Clarke gets up and returns to the Rover. Maybe if she goes to sleep, she’ll wake it up and it’ll only be the 2,199th day since Primefaya. It’s an awful thought, but somehow it soothes the knot in her stomach just enough that Clarke thinks, being as tired as she is, sleep might come. It’s an odd forgotten feeling, to be this lonely in the midst of so many people.

**

 

"Ha yun, ai strik lukot" Hopefully translates to, "Hello, my little friend." 

"Strikon" translates as "little one".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ha yun, ai strik lukot" Hopefully translates to, "Hello, my little friend." 
> 
> "Strikon" translates as "little one".
> 
> **
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always so welcome! 
> 
> [verbam](http://verbam.tumblr.com/)


	2. Day 2,201

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow!! Thank you for so many amazing comments y'all! Not going to lie, you definitely got me motivated to zoom right through this second chapter. I'm certainly hoping to go back and respond to you all individually, but wanted to give you all a shout out here first. You loves are the best.
> 
> A thank you to my betas, and my writing coven, you also keep me going.

She used to dream about Bellamy. 

Sometimes he appeared as she had first known him, gruff with dislike, a little cruel with power. Those nights she bickered with him in her sleep, knew the annoyance and dislike of those early weeks on the ground. 

Sometimes she found him bloodied and battered and stalwart, eyes serious and somehow shy. The fires they sat by together warm her, the moonshine they drank burns distantly in her throat. She always woke up from those dreams of him feeling reassured.

She’s dreamt of the times they fought, bitterly. She’s dreamt of the times he’s made her laugh. She’s dreamt of the times that they’ve touched each other so carefully that Clarke couldn’t believe another person could know the jumble of jagged edges that made her up well enough to handle them without cutting themselves or breaking her further.

In all her dreams, no matter when or how he came to her, she knew him. In all her dreams, he knew her.

~~ ~~

The Eligius camp wakes early. Clarke startles awake to a bang of shifting machinery, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. If she had been dreaming, she loses it as quickly as the mist seeping in through the hatches of the Rover, moving in and out of the slotted grey-dawn light and shadow. 

Liminal light has always played games with Clarke’s perception, and the drying herbs and flowers above their heads look ominous and enigmatic. The rifles that hang on the racks Clarke installed look like toys. Beside her, Madi looks young and pale, bags under her eyes prominent from the lack of sleep in the past few days. Clarke reaches out and brushes her hair out of her face. Madi just murmurs something and burrows deeper into her blankets. It’d taken a long time, but Madi’s grown to trust Clarke enough that she sleeps through nearly anything. 

Madi may not have grown up with her family, but at least she’s known some peace. Clarke was able to give love and safety enough that when she hears Clarke’s stories, Madi only hears the romance and underlying lessons. She’s never known the nightmares that used to plague Clarke from the very same stories, and for that Clarke is grateful.

Clarke frowns. Has she done the right thing, staying here with Madi? Their home would be safer, but they can’t hide forever. The Eligius crew knew she was here, that much Clarke is certain. They did nothing but search for her when they landed, and no doubt if she and Madi had run, they would have followed. Sending Madi home alone wasn’t a true option either. She knows from the Blakes’ she couldn’t have kept her hidden forever, there is no happy ending. Madi was safest with her, but Clarke knows with a sinking dread that safety is relative. Neither of them is safe, truly safe anymore.

Clarke pushes away the dark thoughts of irradiated bodies, flooded bunkers and waste lands of dust and bone. She hops out the back off the Rover. Smoke rises from early light fires down below and figures dressed in black move like ants- orderly and near silent in the dawn. Bellamy’s rifle is gone from the tree next to his lean-to. He always was an early riser. Clarke pushes that thought away too starting their fire, she watches the camp from the roof of the Rover while it burns low enough for cooking. 

The crew is unloading small crafts from the bay of the largest ship. They’re awkward, hardy little ships: boxy with full bellied cargo holds, there’s nothing aerodynamic about their design. Between thrusters and their stubby wings, they teeter out, narrowly missing some of the lean-tos as they land heavily on the ground. The strange, claw like apparatuses on the sides of the crafts look like pincers, cruel and strong. Even from her spot on top of the Rover, Clarke can see the dints and scratches in the metal. The small crafts have seen hard work. 

Once landed, the back set of doors to the cargo hold hiss open, leaving the ships yawning hungrily. Their claws rest on the ground, impotent. There are about twenty small ships all told, spread out around the encampment by the time the sun marks mid-morning and Clarke’s fire has burned down to low, hot flames. 

Clarke slides off the top of the Rover, landing cat-like on her feet. She boils oats and seeds along with some dried blueberries for Madi’s breakfast as she chews a tough piece of jerky. She sets her coffee on the fire before hopping back into the Rover. 

Madi grumbles her way to consciousness as Clarke gently calls her back. “Good morning, little cub,” Clarke whispers when Madi finally opens her eyes and blinks up at her blearily. “Did you sleep well?”

“Ten more minutes, Clarke,” Madi murmurs, her version of a _good morning_. 

“Ten more minutes and your breakfast will get cold,” Clarke says, rubbing her shoulder. “It has blueberries in it.”

Madi groans and pushes her face into her pillow but then sits up and clumsily accepts the wooden bowl. Clarke combs her fingers through Madi’s tangled hair while the little girl works on her breakfast. Madi used to ask Clarke for elaborate braids, twisting knots and ringlets wrapped around bone-fashioned ornaments like she remembers her family wore. Clarke’s clumsy attempts had resulted in dissapointed, unconsolable tears at first, then resignation and then Madi’d set herself to trying to teach herself how to do it on Clarke’s hair. Two impossibly tangled knots later, and Clarke had been forced to cut her hair.

Madi’s content now to let Clarke braid her hair into a simple wreathed crown, pretty and out of the way. She likes the story of how Abby used to do this for Clarke, and sometimes Clarke catches her whispering it nearly silently to herself while Clarke cards her fingers through her hair. Madi’s loves stories.

“Clarke? Madi?”

Clarke starts in surprise at their names and quickly fits the pins in place on Madi’s head before she ducks her head out of the Rover.

Monty and Harper are waiting a respectful distance from the Rover, glancing curiously at the kettle on the fire. They break into grins when they see her.

“We’re on our shift break, and thought we’d come say hello,” Harper says as she gives Clarke a hug. 

“They’ve got all of you working, huh?” Clarke asks, nodding down at the camp.

“We’re part of the crew. Maybe adopted a little late, but we’ve all survived together for the last four years,” Harper says. “Man, what are you making? It smells amazing.”

“Oh, coffee,” Clarke says, glancing at her fire and half forgotten boiling kettle. “Do you guys want some?”

“Do you have enough to share?” Monty asks.

“Come sit.” She digs out the tin cups from where they’re secured on the side of the Rover and pours both Monty and Harper steaming mug fulls of the chicory coffee, rich and thick. “Madi, you want to come say hello?” 

Madi slips quietly out of the Rover and crouches next to Clarke, balancing on the balls of her feet and watching Harper and Monty with wide eyes. 

“Man, I can’t believe you still have the Rover,” Monty says, shaking his head as he looks over the old car. “I thought for sure Primefaya would have destroyed it.”

“It was a close call,” Clarke admits. “But Becca’s lab had data bases of old engine manuals. Some trial and error and I got it working again.”

“‘Becca’s lab’, wow.” Harper says with a soft laugh. She’s trailing her fingers through the springy grass, tugging lightly at the blades now and then, not hard enough to pull them up. To test the sensation, Clarke thinks. When was the last time Harper got to enjoy the softness of Earth? Had she ever really? “That feels like it’s from another lifetime,” she murmurs.

“Right?” Monty asks her. “What about Arkadia?”

“That too,” Harper admits. “Being back on earth is like remembering a dream in some ways, isn’t it?”

Clarke looks down and digs the boot of her toe into the earth. They’ve spent four years with Eligius compared to their six months on Earth. She almost hadn’t realized, until they’d come back, how fast and fleeting those months had been. “Are you glad to be back?” she asks.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Monty says. “That first breath of fresh air…” he trails off. “Harper said it’s like remembering a dream, but I think coming back is more like waking up.”

Clarke smiles at him, and Monty cocks his head at her a gives her the close mouthed smile she remembers, the quirked, inquisitive eyebrows. He’s grown up a lot- grown into his high cheekbones and reflection that had never had a time to deepen in their first time on earth. “This must just be normal for you. All of this,” he says with a handwave at the moss covered trees and high blue sky, the mountain ridges that ring them in.

“I don’t know,” Clarke says thoughtfully. She looks down at Madi and wrinkles her nose at her. “We spent a while in the wastes. I still dream about it sometimes. Do you?”

“Yeah, and my old village,” Madi says, although she was only six when they left it behind. 

“After all that, I’m not sure either of us will ever take all of this for granted.”

They talk of other things for a while. Harper and Monty tell them about Go-Sci, the echoing, empty halls and seemingly endless repairs that needed to be done before the Eligius ship picked them up. That crew, Clarke learns when she asks, were prisoners from Europe, sent off on a pilot program for asteroid mining, nearly ten years before ALIE got control of the bombs. Cryosleep had kept them young until they reached the ‘belt. Hard years of toil had greeted them there, mining the aestroids for minerals that were only found in trace amounts on earth. The rebellion lead by Charmaine had given the prisoners control of the very ships that had been their prisons. For a time, the Eligius crew had explored deep space, just because they could. Somewhere along the way, they had picked up Clarke’s friends on Go-Sci.

Monty and Harper both use jargon and slang that Clarke doesn’t fully understand, but she doesn’t comment or ask. It’s nice to hear human voices tell stories she doesn’t know for a change. She listens for cracks and divisions she had sensed yesterday, but nothing Harper nor Monty account in their stories give anything away.

“They didn’t trust us at first,” Harper admits when Clarke asks. “Kept us as prisoners for a while, but eventually Bellamy struck a deal with them.”

“How?” Clarke asks. She tries to keep her voice neutral, she’s not sure how well she succeeds. 

“We don’t know,” Monty says. “We were all in solitary confinement for a while. Bellamy just told us he managed to convince them we’d work with them if they gave us a chance.”

“They locked you up?” 

“Well, they didn’t know us,” Harper reasons. “After Bellamy figured things out, everything was good.”

Clarke glances at Madi and notes that she’s listening with rapt attention. New stories from the very people who had for so long been no more than words taking shape in her mind. 

“What about you two?” Harper asks. “How did you two find each other?”

“We got lucky,” Clarke says. “Or rather, I did.” 

Down below, a whistle blows and Harper and Monty exchange a look. “We have to go,” Harper says, pushing herself up from the grass. “Captain wants the majority of the Crabs broken down by the end of the month.”

“Crabs?” Madi asks.

“The collection crafts,” Harper says, gesturing at the ships Clarke had watched zoom out this morning. “They were used for ore collection out on the ‘belt.” 

“She’s moving too fast,” Monty says under his breath and Harper shoots him a look. He reaches up and she helps pull him to his feet. “Don’t worry, I already said my piece.”

“She knows what she’s doing,” Harper says, although it sounds a little defensive. “And you said yourself that it’d be risky to dismantle them once it got too cold.”

“We’ve got five months.”

“Why dismantle them?” Clarke asks, rinsing out the cups with water from her canteen.

“They’re awkward fliers. Some we’ll keep in tact, but Raven and I are working on designs for building something like your Rover.”

Harper’s mouth twitches and she turns abruptly toward Clarke. “Speaking of, Raven’s working in ‘03. She said for us to tell you that you can hang with her, if you want.”

“What are you doing?” Madi pipes up. 

Harper grins at her. “I’m on construction.”

“Can I come with you?” Madi asks and then looks at Clarke. “Can I?”

Clarke hesitates. She trusts Harper, but all the same, Madi out of her sight with the very people that tried to kill them just over a day ago makes her anxious. “Will she be in the way?”

“Not at all,” Harper promises. “She’s welcome to camp out with me for a bit.” She looks at Madi at leans forward, bracing her hands on her thighs so she’s on Madi’s eyelevel. “I can teach you how to solder, if you want.”

“Please, Clarke?” Madi wheedles. 

“Ok, but you stay with Harper, ok? Don’t wander off by yourself.”

“Clarke,” Madi says, rolling her eyes. “I know.”

“I know you know,” Clarke teases her. “And I know you’re too curious for your own good.”

“I’ll look after her, don’t worry,” Harper promises. “And teach her proper ship safety procedures.”

“Ok,” Clarke agrees and Madi squeals in delight. “But let me know if you need me.”

“Will do.”

When Madi comes to give Clarke a hug goodbye, Clarke slips an extra knife into the holster of the little girls’ belt. When Madi looks up at her questioningly, Clarke just rubs her nose against Madi’s. “Remember how we hunt,” Clarke tells her softly. “Never one on one with a predator. Harper’s your number two.”

Madi nods, eyes serious. Clarke sends her on her way. 

~~ ~~

The Crabs are numbered in faded white and grey lettering. _E45611_ is the first one she passes, in which she catches sight of long lines of tables being set up. _E45605_ looks like it’s being converted into a makeshift infirmary. Outside of _E45607,_ they’re building what looks like meat-smoking hut. 

Clarke catches sight of Bellamy, his rifle slung over his back, calling out instructions to a few of the laboring crew members and then stepping in and tying two meeting sinews of branch with quick dexterity. Someone says something to him and Clarke sees him smile, clap the guy on the back. She pauses, lingering in the shade of the trees to watch him- lets herself imagine for a moment that this is the drop ship all over again, pretends for a second that yesterday didn’t happen. But then Bellamy finds her in the wooded underbrush and he freezes. He doesn’t give her a cocky little salute, or even roll his eyes at her. He goes still and his face pales. Clarke looks away and keeps going before she has to watch him turn his back on her. 

_E45603_ has a sign that’s been hastily erected, the words _Head Mechanic’s Shop_ spray painted cockily across the spare metal in neon orange. It’s scrappy and so much Raven that Clarke can’t help her smile. She steps into the darkened mouth of the Crab and has to blink a few times to get accustomed to the darkness. “Raven?”

“Hey!” Raven pops up from behind a large engine that’s been placed in the middle of the room. “Welcome to ‘03.”

“She’s a beaut,” Clarke says, the smell of machine oil and grease strong in the air. It conjures a faint memory of the Ark, her dad coming home with the whiff of the machine rooms still on him. 

“She’s really not,” Raven says with a laugh. “But that’s nice of you. She’s a good old girl.” 

“Reminds me of what you came down from the Ark in,” Clarke says, running her hand along interior wall. 

“Oh yeah,” Raven says, wiping a hand across her forehead. “But you couldn’t pay me to rig one of these for atmosphere reentry. Well, actually, you could, but it’d cost you.”

“The intellectual triumph wouldn’t be enough?” Clarke finds herself teasing. It’s interesting to slip back into old habits with Raven, easier habits. She finds that some of the tension that plagued them; the guilt that Clarke felt, justifiable or not, about Finn has eased with their six year separation. Talking with Raven, testing her memory of her friends and having it confirmed, feels safer here. 

“I get enough of that around here as it is,” Raven says with a grin. “I’m literally a girl from the future for them. It’s almost too easy.”

“‘Easy’ for you is still rocket science for the rest of us. Except Monty.”

“True.”

Clarke finds a seat out of Raven’s way and perches while her friend works. They talk on and off, but there’s no real pressure or awkward silences between them. Clarke is used to the quiet, and Raven, it seems, is just as likely to talk to herself as she is to anyone around her while she’s working. Clarke finds she’s thankful to be here- Raven’s request for her company keeps her from skirting the camp aimlessly, keeps her from feeling like an outsider in the midst of so many new people.

“So, fill me in,” Clarke says in the easy silence between them. “Harper told me you guys have been part of the Eligius crew for four years?”

“Yeah, give or take,” Raven says, swearing softly at a machine part she’s working on. 

“How’s that been?”

“Being part of the crew?” Raven repeats. “Honestly, better than the Ark or Arkadia ever was. We pull our weight, and they accept us. Everyone’s voice counts, everyone’s opinion matters. No one’s trying to kill us up here. Or brainwash us. It’s been good for everyone, for the most part.”

“Most part?” Clarke presses carefully.

“Well, yeah. I mean it’s never going to be all sunshine and roses, is it? Look at the lives we’ve had. This crew was prisoners before they were freed. Everyone’s a little fucked up, but who isn’t?”

“Well you all seem pretty happy,” Clarke admits. “I just can’t get a read on Bellamy.”

Raven laughs, but it has an edge. “Bellamy. Trust me, he’s more than fine.”

“Is he?”

“Of course he is. You must remember, he always had a nose for power. He’s close to Charmaine, just like he was close to you, to Pike, and to Kane. He’s just fine.”

Clarke winces. “He just doesn’t seem like himself.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Raven says, her voice, although muffled by the engine, still managing to be both sympathetic and a little dismissive. “I mean, yeah, he got weird around you yesterday, but all this is pretty typical. He can be a brusque, challenging asshole. But at least you know he’s sincere about it. And he’s doing his best to look out for everyone. You must remember that about him.”

“Of course I do,” Clarke says. It still doesn’t feel right but she lets it go, for now. “Monty said he was the one who negotiated with Eligius to let you guys join.”

“Oh, yeah. On his own, like he does everything. Typical Bellamy.”

Clarke hears the edge of bitterness in Raven’s voice and realizes she’s pushing too hard. “I guess it’s just been awhile,” she says, appeasingly.

“Yeah, six fucking years,” Raven laughs. “But like I said, don’t worry. Bellamy is just prickly. He doesn’t like surprises.”

“No,” Clarke laughs a little. “That I remember.”

She’s there for what she thinks must be an hour or so, before a tall, dark skinned man steps into the cool interior of ‘03, laughing loudly at something someone outside is still shouting at him. “Where’s my girl?” he booms into the comfortable silence. “Rave, where are you?”

“Not your girl, Zeke,” Raven says, sliding out from under the engine, but she’s smiling. 

“That’s right, you belong to no man, woman or child,” the man, Zeke, assents but hauls Raven up and plants a kiss on her cheek. “But I was asking about my engine.”

“‘07’s seen better days,” Raven admits, patting the engine’s side. “Sorry, she’s probably going to have to be parts.”

“Oh god, you wound me. Ten years, me and her were faithful,” Zeke says, staggering dramatically. “You know she was the one who took down the Warden with me?”

“Zeke, if I have to hear that story one more time-”

“You love it.”

“You sure about that?”

“I know what this is,” Zeke says, feigning horror. “This is a plot to break us up. ‘07’s in prime condition and you’re jealous of our connection.”

“Save the dramatics, ‘07’s already dramatic enough for both of you.”

“That is true, I’ll give you that,” Zeke admits and hoists himself up onto an empty oil drum. “But you could at least look happy to see me, Rave.”

“That would defeat the entire purpose of keeping you _out of my shop_.”

“That’s pure shite,” Zeke laughs. “You love me.” He looks jovially around the shop for the first time, almost managing casual if it weren’t for the fact that his eyes find Clarke so quickly. “Oh, hullo,” he says, with a cock of his head. “Rave, is this your friend? The one who everyone’s talking about?”

Clarke tries to hide the flash of anxiety that his words bring up. She knows she and Madi stick out, but still, so many people knowing who she is already without her having a grasp on who these people are feels like she’s operating blind, no clear advantage, no clear team. “That’d be me,” she says instead. 

“Clarke, this is Zeke, he’s one of the Eligius pilots. And a constant pain in my ass.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Zeke says, swinging his feet. He looks Clarke over and then smiles, inviting. “You want to hear what I got booked for?”

“Oh my god,” Raven groans covering her eyes. “Zeke, no one cares.”

“I don’t mind,” Clarke laughs, but she tries to keep it casual. Zeke seems like an open book, and the more he’s willing to share, the less she has to ask later.

“Joy riding,” Zeke says with a happy sigh. “Always loved cars, the flashier the better.”

“What he’s not saying is that the actual charge was kidnapping,” Raven says, a surprisingly fond smile lighting her face. 

“ _Unintentional_ kidnapping,” Zeke protests. “How was I supposed to know the Taiwanese ambassador was taking a nap in the back of his limo?”

“Limo?” Clarke asks, looking at Raven for clarification.

“A pointlessly fancy car,” Raven says with a shrug. “Cars were a big deal, apparently. And it sounds likes the less functional, the better.”

“I’m so glad I was born _before_ apocalypse,” Zeke says pointedly. “None of you Post-Apoc know what fun is.”

Clarke smiles at the faint memory of a cramped car and Finn offering her an old bottle of whiskey, riding the tension between her and Wells, green and ghostly in her memory. Raven always liked them flashy, and Zeke’s good looking, fine features and dark eyes, his quick smile that’s just an edge too sharp to be fully benign. 

“What about you?” Zeke asks her.

“What about me, what?” Clarke asks.

“Oh don’t be coy: JM’s a proper arsonist; Harper, well, she’s a cheeky girl, isn’t she?; Monty likes himself a toke or two, and Blake’s personality is a crime all on it’s own. What’d they get you for?”

Clarke lifts an eyebrow. “Treason.”

Zeke whistles low and long. “Alright then, upping the ante. Rave, how come you never told me about this girl?”

When Clarke glances at Raven, she’s looking down, suddenly busy fiddling with her utility belt. “I’ve mentioned her,” Raven says, surly. “You just never listen.”

“It’s okay,” Clarke says quickly. “I wasn’t much fun to talk about.”

Raven’s dark eyes dart to Clarke and she thinks there’s an apology in them, something like pain, but she gets it. For a long time, Clarke didn’t want to talk about herself either. 

Clarke changes the subject, and for the next few minutes she listens as Zeke and Raven rib each other. They have a natural give and take to their banter, but Clarke realizes that aside from Zeke’s overt charisma and teasing, he keeps glancing at the door. He’s waiting for someone else, and when Clarke glances at Raven, her friend has clearly caught on to it too. Or maybe, she’s used to it, given the fact she laughs when Zeke’s head whips around for the third time in as many minutes at the crunch of boots outside.

“You know Echo’s been sent out to hunt, she might not even make it back for break today,” Raven says slyly to Zeke.

“And who says I’m not just here to see you?”

At that moment, Echo does step in from out of the sunlight, squinting in the light adjustment. Zeke promptly drops the wrench he’s been fiddling with, and quickly stuffs his hands into his pockets, trying to play it off as it clatters on the ground. 

“Right,” Raven snorts. “Real convincing. Hey, Echo.”

Echo nods at Raven, but her eyes have slid to Zeke and then find Clarke. Clarke sees her moment’s hesitation, the uncertainty in her eyes as she takes Clarke in. “Hello,” Echo says. Her voice is low and smooth. “It’s a party today.”

“Oh well, you know,” Zeke says, rolling his shoulders, throwing his chest out just a bit. “Couldn’t resist coming to see Raven. She’s working on ‘07. You know, add an extra 0 and my engine’s practically-”

“Sure,” Echo says, without bothering to look at Zeke. Clarke catches him deflate a little. “Hey, Clarke.”

“Hey,” Clarke says, a little tentatively.

There’s a moment of lingering, surprisingly awkward silence. 

“How were your first nights back on the ground?” Clarke asks, unable to stand the silence. It’s one thing, on her own, or with Madi, but silence with people she hasn’t seen in six years feels nearly unbearable.

“Alright,” Raven says. “It’s quieter than I remember.”

“Never camped out in my life,” Zeke says, swinging his feet. “I was always a city kid, so it’s a new adventure. What about for you, Echo? Catch up on your beauty sleep?”

“I got enough,” Echo says shortly, but Clarke doesn’t miss how she doesn’t look at any of them when she says it. Clarke tries not to linger on Echo’s lithe, dark shadow slipping into Bellamy’s tent. Silence settles between them, and Clarke knows it’s not just because of her, it can’t be, but she’s aware that her presence isn’t helping it. 

“So did you catch anything?” Zeke asks after a moment.

“I was laying traps, not checking them,” Echo says tersely. “But I did get a few squirrels.”

“I’ve never had squirrel,” Zeke says.

“It’s nothing to get excited about, it’s gamey.” 

“Echo, I fixed your radio,” Raven cuts in quickly, shooting a look at Zeke that Clarke can’t quite read. “And I may have modified it a bit so you get a better range now.” She buffs her nails on the shoulder of her shirt. “It’ll be good if you’re going out on any scouting trips.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Echo says, accepting the small hand held radio Raven passes over. “I didn’t mind the silence today, though. First time in six years I haven’t had to deal with machine hum. Or other people.” She presses her fingers to her temple, like she’s trying to ease a headache. 

“I can’t imagine,” Clarke says and instantly regrets it. She can’t look at any of them for a moment, focuses instead on her feet. Silence rushes between them again for a terrible moment.

“Hey, I’ve got a spare radio,” Raven says, overly bright. “Clarke, you should take it.”

“Oh, no,” Clarke says, awkwardly. “That’s ok.”

“No, really,” Raven insists. “They’re standard issue. It’s not even a question.” She presses a radio into Clarke’s hands. It’s a small thing, makes her satellite radio seem gargantuan and ungainly in comparison, but Clarke misses it’s heft, the solid, comforting promise of it. 

“Eligius wide channels are one through four,” Raven tells her. “I use channel three, if you ever need to reach me.” She flashes Clarke a grin. Clarke turns the radio on and immediately there’s a crackle of human voice, muffled and blurry as only radio waves can make it. Clarke turns it back off again, a strange lump in her throat.

“Thank you,” is all she says and clips it onto her belt. 

“Hey,” Raven says, gripping Clarke’s knee and giving it a little shake. “It makes sense that you should have it. You’re one of us” 

It’s a nice sentiment, but Clarke’s not sure how true it is. 

“Here,” Clarke says, trying to shake off the heaviness. “You might like these.” She pulls the little leather bag that holds the dried blueberries on her belt forward and shakes out a few into her palm. She offers them to the others. 

Raven is quick to try them, making a soft, happy sound at their flavor. “God, I can’t wait until we’ve got settled enough give up MRAs completely. That jerky last night? These? I miss real food.”

“Are those blueberries? _Bluets_ , as the Frenchies call ‘em? Don’t mind if I do!”

Echo is the last to take Clarke up on her offer. She takes just one, and slips it into her mouth. She doesn’t make a sound, but closes her eyes, savouring the taste. 

“You know,” Zeke says, in a tone Clarke is fast realizing is his storytelling affect. “Blood’s the color of blueberries. When it hasn’t oxidized.”

“Oh god, Zeke. Knock it off,” Raven groans, but Echo just tilts her head at him, considering. He seems emboldened by that alone.

“Yeah, Freddie used to pilot ‘10. She was a good scuttler, but one good rock slide on A.22.09, and-” Zeke slides one palm across the other with a crude sound effect. “Took us two shift cycles to dig him out and when we did the blood was-”

“Dig them out!” Clarke gasps, jolting with the realization of it

“What?”

“Dig them out. Don’t you see?” She says when Raven, Echo and Zeke give her blank looks. “We can dig out the bunker. With the Crabs.”

She can’t believe she didn’t think of it sooner: the little mining crafts could easily succeed where she and Madi had scrabbed with raw, bloodied fingers to try to move even the smallest pieces of scorched concrete and twisted iron.

“I thought you said you hadn’t been in contact with the bunker,” Raven says slowly.

“I haven’t, but I also couldn’t reach you,” Clarke says impatiently. “The bunker is buried under the entirety of Polis, but if we clear that rubble, they’ll be able to open the door.”

“If they’re alive…”

Clarke can’t help the look she shoots at Raven. “They are. Octavia, Kane, my mom, they kept them alive.”

Raven lifts her hands with a shrug. “Listen, I’m not trying to argue. If you believe they’re alive, Clarke, then god knows you’re the expert on survival surprises. I just know you’ll have to make a case of it to Charmaine.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“Really?” Raven asks skeptically.

“You said Bellamy’s close to Charmaine. And if nothing else, it’s Octavia in that bunker- he’ll back me up.”

To her surprise, Raven makes a tsking sound. “We’ll see. Bellamy’s on her council.”

“So? All the better.”

“So, Charmaine likes an echo chamber,” Raven says, glancing at Echo. “And Bellamy wouldn’t be there unless she was sure of his support.”

~~ ~~

The Eligius ship is just as dark and foreboding inside as it is out. Zeke had walked Clarke to the entrance ramp of ship, and then waved her in. “The longer I can go without going back in there, the better I am for it,” he’d told her, cheerfully, hands tucked into his pockets. “But the council

meets on the bridge. I should know,” he says, leaning in cheekily, “been summoned there a few times myself.”

“I bet you have,” Clarke laughs, can’t resist his charm. The directions to navigate the ship are easy enough to follow, and Clarke finds herself turning down dark, red-lit hallways, passing hushed walkways and at one point looks out over a towering aetrium of countless cells. None of the comforting blue and white lights of the Ark are here: this ship was meant to keep its inhabitants subdued. 

The bridge greets her with tall, ominous doors that slide open with a chime when she’s within five feet of them. So much for a subtle approach, Clarke thinks. The murmur of voices that tumbled out with the swish of doors dies expectantly. She takes a breath and steps onto the bridge of the Eligius ship. 

It’s like something out of the movies Clarke used to watch: a patina on once chrome and sleek surfaces and curved edges; holoboards, marked up with trajectories and warp speeds, have started to chip and crack and flicker; work and observation stations cluttered with personal items and pictures in amongst the frayed wires and work tools. Time has aged this ‘ship more than it aged the people on it, and Charmaine sits at the center of it. Her dark, severe uniform serves to highlight her, rather than hide her in the room that once was state of the art.

Behind her, Bellamy stands with several other men and women. He looks sharply away from her when Clarke finds him and he leans forward toward Charmaine.

“Permission to-”

“No.” 

Bellamy grimaces. “Yes, Ma’am.” He falls in line, hands clasped behind his back, but he doesn’t look up at Clarke again. She doesn’t let it shake her confidence. Even before they first trusted each other, Octavia was their common ground.

“Well? What is it?” Charmaine asks sharply. “You are interrupting precious time.” 

“I came to ask for your help,” Clarke says. “There are other potential survivors of the radiation that sent Bellamy and my friends into space. They’re trapped in a bunker, about fifty miles south of here, under the rubble of an old city.”

Charmaine leans her cheek into her hand, unmoved. “And?”

“And,” Clarke says, cooly. “The Crabs you’re breaking down could be used to move the rubble to get them out. If you sent-”

“No.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘no’.” Charmaine says and then turns away, starting to speak to one of the men behind her.

“Hey,” Clarke snaps. Charmaine goes still, hardening, and looks back at her, her grey eyes narrowed. “There’s no way for them to get out unless we clear the rubble. If you don’t send the ships then they’re stuck down there.”

“I don’t know these people,” Charmaine says. “I allowed you and your daughter to stay. I never said I’d share the land with twelve hundred people I don’t know.”

“And how do you expect to survive?” Clarke asks. “There are people down there who have lived off the land their entire lives. Farmers, hunters, craftsmen, doctors, and others.”

“‘Others’,” Charmaine snorts. “I know what ‘others’ means. You mean soldiers. Politicians. People who think they are singularly entitled to this land.”

“They have just as much a right to the land as we do,” Clarke says cooly. “Plus, with genetic diversity--”

“I have five hundred people to feed, shelter and protect in the four months before winter arrives,” Charmaine says, cutting Clarke off. “The Crabs are key to protecting just those five hundred. And you want me to send those crabs fifty miles south, to dig out twelve hundred more lives, that we would then be obligated to share our limited resources with?”

“You can’t keep them locked down there,” Clarke says. “They’re our people. People who will help us survive.”

“Or who will kick us of this land. My people have spent life times banished from Earth. Not anymore.”

“But-”

“Blake,” Charmaine says, turning to Bellamy. He looks up at her, face unreadable. “You were on the ground before. Your opinion.”

Bellamy takes a slow breath. “It’s as you say,” he says, not even glancing at Clarke when she can’t help her sharp inhale of shock. “More people right now strains the resources we have. Maybe in a year-”

“A _year?_ ” Clarke gasps, outraged. “They were only supposed to be down there for five years. What if their food runs out? Their water? Their air?”

“What if it already has?” Charmaine counters. “Think of the wasted effort. The toll it will take on people I have a duty to protect now.”

“But-”

“Find me proof of life,” Charmaine says. “You prove they’re alive, and next year, in the spring, we will reconsider.”

“You can’t just-”

“ _In the meantime_ ,” Charmaine says, talking over her. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that no one here gets a free ride. If you want to remain with our camp, you’ll have to start working. You know the land, you’ll help us map it. Help us hunt.”

“Those are skills that you are throwing away with lives in the bunker.”

“The matter is settled. Work with us or leave. Now get out.”

Clarke stares at Charmaine, in disbelief. The Captain’s face is calm but her eyes snap with dislike. Clarke turns from her. “Bellamy,” she tries. “What about-”

“You have your answer,” Bellamy says, his voice low, a dangerous edge sharpening it. “And you have your orders.” 

“Do I need to have you escorted out?” Charmaine asks. When Clarke looks back at her, there’s something like quiet victory in her eyes. 

“No.” She turns and walks out, makes herself keep an even pace, keep her hands relaxed. She won’t let Charmaine and her council see the effect they’ve had on her. She’s reeling by the time she makes it outside of the big ship, confusion and heartache and anger swirling together so that when she lifts her hands to look at them, they’re shaking. 

Clarke stalks from the ramp of Eligius seething. That wasn’t Bellamy. She doesn’t care what Raven said, what Harper and Monty said. Something is wrong with him. Bellamy would never leave their people trapped underground. He would never leave Octavia trapped. Clarke heads for the treeline, glaring at the few crew members who stop their work to look at her. 

The sun is setting, and somewhere across the camp that seems to be growing by the moment, someone sounds three short blasts on a whistle. The day is ending. Clarke knows she should go get Madi, but she’s too angry to control herself at the moment, let alone hide it from the little girl. Madi’s safe with Harper, Clarke reasons, and Raven knows where she is. She’ll be safe for a while more. 

She knows she can’t get caught waiting outside the ship. At the moment, she’s towing a fine line of staying in Charmaine’s good graces, and from Charmaine’s brevity today, Clarke would bet she doesn’t need a strong reason to consider Clarke a problem. The treeline is safer: safer to watch, safer to wait. Clarke pulls herself up onto a low branch and settles back against the trunk of the tree, lifting her hood to cover her hair, drawing her knees close to her chest so that she becomes no more than a dark shadow in the cradle of a branch. 

Clarke watches the flow of people. One of the Crabs has clearly been designated the mess hall, and people come and go from it as fires begin to light across the camp. In their all black uniforms, the crew are like ants: orderly, efficient. The patterns they move in make sense except- there. A lone figure skulks on the far side of the Eligius ship, his dark clothes making him little more than the shadows of the dusk. His stillness, so similar to her own, is what alerts her to his presence. He, like her, doesn’t want to be seen. Clarke’s breath freezes in her chest as she recognizes the shaggy hair even from a distance.

It’s the same man that followed her in the woods yesterday. Clarke stares at him hard, trying to figure out what he’s up to, why he’s alone. But then he’s joined by someone else, and with a jolt Clarke realizes it’s Murphy. 

The man claps Murphy on the shoulder and smiles at him, not the same teeth baring grimace he had leveled on Clarke, but one that actually seems friendly. The two talk, Murphy looking perfectly at ease, even waving to a few crew members who pass them: he doesn’t seem to notice the tension in his companion.

“You’re going to miss the rations,” one of the crew shouts to them. “Come on, McCreary. Let John eat like the rest of us.”

“I’m not stopping him,” the man- McCreary- shouts back. But he joins Murphy, and he other crew members, and as a group they head off toward the mess hall. Clarke realizes she’s been holding her breath and exhales it out, long and slow.

It’s not for another half an hour, by her best estimates, that the first of the council members appear from inside the ship. They leave in pairs and triplets, and Clarke studies each other them closely. There’s a woman with short cropped hair, the sides of her head completely shaved. There’s a man with a loud laugh and blond hair that he wears pulled into a bun on his head. There’s a shorter, stout man, who walks with a waddle. 

Clarke counts them out until only Bellamy and Charmaine remain inside. Clarke wonders for a terrible moment if they won’t come out at all, but then they appear in the mouth of the ship. Charmaine is clearly finishing a thought, eyes sweeping the camp as she does so. Bellamy stands by her side, and Clarke can just make out the brief nod he gives Charmaine before he starts down the ramp alone. 

Clarke drops from her branch and keeps pace with Bellamy, still in the shadow of the trees. To her luck, Bellamy doesn’t head into the heart of the camp, but skirts the edges of it. He doesn’t speak to anyone, although a few people hail him. He responds with a lifted hand, but keeps going. Clarke can’t tell if he’s patrolling the perimeter or just walking to clear his head, but soon they’re far enough away from the Eligius ship and from any of the flickering, busy camp fires that Clarke figures this is the best shot she’s got at getting Bellamy on his own.

She quickens her pace and cuts out of the forest, making enough noise that he has to hear her coming.

“Hey,” she calls. Bellamy so firmly doesn’t look at her that Clarke knows he’s heard her. “Hey!” She snaps. “Bellamy.”

His name makes him jerk and Clarke catches up to him, rounds in front of him. “Bellamy, stop,” she snarls as he continues to ignore her. A cold rage wells in her chest, a sensation she hasn’t felt in years, not since she was trapped and starving in Becca’s lab. “We need to talk. What the fuck was that back there?” Her anger and frustration make her spit the words out, inelegant and clumsy.

Bellamy grits his teeth but doesn’t answer her. His gaze focuses somewhere over her left shoulder. It’s the last straw: she’s done with him ignoring her, done with him playing like he doesn’t know her.

“Bellamy, _look at me.”_ She grabs him by the arm and Bellamy jumps like he’s been burned. His eyes snap down to where she’s touching him and for a moment he’s frozen and then he shakes her roughly off.

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Clarke snaps right back. “No, hey,” She snarls as he tries to step around her, and she bodily blocks him. “You just condemned our people to another year of living underground. You owe me a fucking answer.”

“You want an answer?” Bellamy grits out, eyes a little wild as he seems to try to look anywhere but at her. “The Captain gave you one: manpower, resources, proof of life. Now move.”

“Bullshit,” Clarke swears. “Bellamy, those are our people in Polis. My mom, Miller. Kane. _Octavia._ Since when have any of those conditions ever been relevant?”

“I know who is in Polis,” Bellamy bites out. He’s staring at her now, and she can’t tell if it’s an improvement or not. He’s looking at her with a mixture of sharp fear and mistrust, and she’s sure, even at his angriest, he’s never looked at her like that before. “What I don’t know is who you are.”

“What?” It caps the swell of her rage and for a moment she’s left gaping, ungrounded. “Bellamy, it’s me. It’s _Clarke.”_

“Don’t call yourself that,” he snarls, vicious. The danger that undercut his tone in the council is fresh on his face. “Don’t say her name.”

“‘Her name’? Bellamy, don’t you know me? No, please. Look at me,” Clarke whispers, not trusting her voice not to quaver. She reaches out to touch his arm again, trying to be gentle, to ground them both in an old familiar comfort, but Bellamy flinches back and she drops her hand. 

“Hey, It’s ok,” she finds herself near pleading. “I’m alive.”

Bellamy searches her face for a long moment and then shakes his head. “I heard Clarke die. Either I’m seeing things, or you’re someone else.”

“Who else could I be?” Clarke asks desperately.

“Beats me,” he says with a roll of his shoulders, a click of his jaw, looking up and away from her face again. He’d always respected her enough to look her in the face when they fought before the difference now keeps her reeling.

“Bellamy, you know me,” Clarke insists. “We came down on the dropship together. We ran the camp together, we took down Mount Weather together. We- we-,” Clarke chokes as the memories that had become distant stories come flooding back with a ferocity that nearly overwhelms her in Bellamy’s presence. Everything she did, she did with him. Everything she got through, she got through because of him. “We were best friends.”

She thinks, for a moment, that gets through to him. Bellamy’s eyes flicker, and he squints at her, like he’s trying to bring her into focus. But then he shakes his head and shoulders past her. “I’m protecting our people,” he says. “I’m doing what’s right.” 

"Hey, hey, Bellamy, _please._ " She tries to catch his sleeve, but Bellamy whirls on her, pulling his arm out of her reach. “Try that again,” he warns, voice cold, “and I’ll break your arm.”

Clarke lets him go. She doesn’t trust her voice anymore, and doesn’t trust herself to keep arguing with him. She feels ungrounded, like she’s hovering above the earth, and for a split second, she does wonder if she’s dead. If this is some weird afterimage that her brain is playing for her, if her spirit found its perfect hell. But then the wind whispers across her face and brings with it the laughter of the campfires and through it all, Clarke can just hear the high piping excitement of Madi’s voice. 

“No,” she whispers, looking down at her shaking hands as she curls them into fists over her fingerless gloves and squeezes, feeling the creak and give of the leather. “I’m alive.”

She takes a few, gulping breaths, then cuts back across camp to find Madi. The little girl is with Raven and Emori at a small fire, and Clarke joins them, slipping in as silently as a ghost. Madi squeals in delight when she sees Clarke and squirms her way into her arms, too big to sit on her lap really, but cuddling into her chest all the same. It’s a relief to see that she’s happy and unstressed, comfortable with Raven and Emori despite her long separation from Clarke. She presses a kiss to Madi’s forehead and squeezes her tight. 

“So,” Raven says. “How’d it go?”

Clarke’s voice is surprisingly normal when she says. “It was a no go. Charmaine says you can’t spare the Crabs and manpower. At least not this year.”

Raven makes a skeptical noise in the back of her throat and Emori looks up at Clarke, eyes assessing. “Well, it was worth a try.”

“What did you do today?” Clarke asks Madi, changing the subject. She shifts Madi’s weight a little as she accepts the cup that Emori offers her.

“Harper showed me the whole camp!” Madi says, twisting her fingers into Clarke’s jacket sleeves to keep them warm. “And then she dropped me off with Raven, and Raven taught me about engines.”

“Is that right?” Clarke asks, resting her chin on Madi’s shoulder. “She trying to turn you into a mechanic?”

“Maybe. What’s this?” Madi asks, tapping the lip Clarke’s cup. Clarke takes a sip of the cup and sputters at the burn of alcohol.

“God, not something you would like,” she promises Madi as Raven and Emori giggle at her reaction. She lets Madi sniff at the the liquid in the cup to confirm her assessment and she wrinkles her nose, nods in agreement. 

“You’ll appreciate it when you’re older,” Emori teases Madi. 

“Maybe,” Madi says skeptically, as she settles further into Clarke’s arms. Clarke rubs her shoulder soothingly. 

“Did you eat?” 

“Yeah,” Madi says on a yawn.

“I’ll make you some tea before bed, ok?” 

“Sure,” Madi agrees. 

It’s easier to settle herself with Madi and Raven and Emori, and Clarke tries to breath out her stomach ache. The night grows deeper around them, and Murphy joins them at their fire, dropping between Raven and Emori easily and slinging an arm over Raven’s shoulder, Emori resting her knee on his thigh. Clarke doesn’t ask about McCreary, now’s not the time. Echo appears silently from the night not long after, settling on the other side of the fire. Her face is drawn, but she produces one of the promised squirrels, skinned and prepped, the smell of rich, roasting meat thickens the air. Harper and Monty appear to claim the short stump and their portions of squirrel. 

And once they’re there, all the empty seats have been filled. There seems to be no expectation that anyone else might join them, and Clarke tries to shake how wrong that feels. However they may claim him, this small family isn’t waiting for Bellamy to join them. He may still orbit them, still be tied by history to them, but he’s not part of this: after shifts are done, when fires are kindled and laughter mixes with the the _shushing_ of the wind in the trees and sparks crackling from logs shifting and settling. Here, Clarke recognizes the echoes of the youth that her friends left behind in her memories once more alive in their faces. Wherever Bellamy spends these moments of crew wide joviality, it’s not here. It’s not with them.

Clarke drinks from her cup, but not too quickly. She watches the easy affection between her friends, the bickering and the banter. She watches shadows pass outside their small circle of light, foreboding in their length and reach even though the figures that cast them are no more than men and women. And it’s in the midst of this, somewhere between the breeze lifting the hair on the back of neck, kissing gooseflesh into the skin there, and Emori leaning across Murphy to whisper in Raven’s ear does it click, what she had missed before.

Bellamy _heard_ her die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always so appreciated!!


	3. Day 2,202

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so so much for all the comments and feedback!! It's been so fun to write this knowing people are excited, and I love reading your thoughts and predictions. 
> 
> (Rough?) translations of Trigedasleng are at the end!

There’s a rustling outside his tent and Bellamy looks up sharply. The drape that serves as his door twitches. “What?”

Echo pulls back lean-top flap, clearly unimpressed with his tone. “Well that answers that question,” she says dryly. 

“Which?”

“How you’re doing.” Echo sits without invitation on the bedroll next to him, folding her long legs under her as she settles. Bellamy sighs and drops his face into his hands.

“That bad?” She reaches out and smooths a hand down his arm, back up again, squeezing gently at his bicep. 

“What do you think?” 

“Bellamy.” He knows what her face will look like if he looks up. She doesn’t deserve his mood, but he can’t bring himself to apologize. There’s a buzzing reverberation in his ears, and his stomach is still rolling, rage and grief and panic all knotted together in his chest. He reaches out blindly and Echo catches his hand between her own and squeezes it.

“It’s so loud down here, Echo.”

“Do you have a headache?” He turns his head away abruptly when she reaches up to gently press on his temples and Echo drops her hand, rubs her palm over his knuckles instead. “You should get some sleep, Bellamy.”

“I know, I know.” He does, but the thought leaves him shaking. He drags his hand down his face. He just wants the noise to stop. It’d been so quiet for so long. Why now? What’s he missing? He exhales sharply between his teeth and twists his fingers so that they’re intertwined with Echo’s. It’s a small indulgence, but it helps. 

“Want me to get you some moonshine?” Bellamy shakes his head.

“Will you just stay?” 

“Of course.”

Her long body is warm against his back, her breath on his neck is nearly enough to help distract him from what’s coming. He holds out for a long time, but Echo’s hands twisting under his shirt and stroking his stomach finally allows the tendrils of sleep to overtake his brain. And later, when he wakes up sweating and shaking, body thrashing violently out of sleep paralysis, Echo is still there. 

Her arms locked around him bring back down, her soft murmuring helps slow the wild, painful gallop of his heart. And when he rolls over, her mouth is gentle. The soft swell of her breast and familiar, inviting slick of her cunt help him remember that he’s not alone; helps bring what’s real back into focus.

~~ ~~

“You,” the tall blond council member says bluntly, looking over Clarke with a curled lip. “You’re late.”

Clarke glances at the horizon. The sun hasn’t yet peeked over the mountains to the East: they’re still silhouetted against the faint golden, pink glow that heralds the sunrise. “I was told dawn.”

The man sneers at her. “And I’m telling you you’re late.”

“Ok. Sorry.”

The man glowers at her and then turns back to the rest of the small party of assembled crew members. Across the small semicircle, Echo meets Clarke’s eyes. “As I was saying,” the council member continues. “Elton, Moier, Radchik. You go East. Briggs, Holly: the two of you go West. North, we’ll have Echo and-”

“I can lead the party South,” Clarke says quickly. “I know the land well done that way.”

The man squints at her. “Then you go North,” he says, and lifts a hand against Clarke’s protest. “And the rest of you without an assignment go South. Be thorough,” he adds shooting a nasty look at Clarke. “No telling what we could find that way.”

Clarke lifts her hands in surrender. The varying hunting parties group and there’s some crude laughter as one woman mimes stabbing something. Bravado, Clarke thinks as she joins Echo silently. She and Echo don’t speak until they’ve moved far enough into the woods that they can’t hear the laughter and shouting of the others that undoubtedly has already scattered the very animals they’re trying to hunt. These adults have no more idea what they’re doing than the hundred did, when they were first sent down. 

“So, what’s really down South?” Echo asks softly.

“Nothing,” Clarke says. “Just woods.”

“And North?”

Clarke glances at her, but Echo’s face is still and secretive in the mossy shadows of the trees. “I mostly wanted the chance to talk to you alone.”

“Mostly,” Echo repeats and Clarke thinks she sees a flash of amusement, a flash of scorn. “Still so cunning.”

“Alright,” Clarke is quick to reckon. “Maybe I don’t want too many people looking North.”

“And why is that?”

Clarke just smiles at Echo and ducks under a branch. She can be just evasive as her old enemy. “I wanted to talk to you about Bellamy.”

Echo’s face shuts down entirely. She says nothing for a long time.

“I know you’re close to him,” Clarke tries. 

“Oh? And how do you know that?”

“I saw you the other night. I know you were in his tent.”

The smile that spreads across Echo’s face is cruel. “Clarke. Are you asking if I am Bellamy’s _niron_?”

Clarke knows she’s trying to throw her off, get her on the defensive, and all the same she feels the sharp prickle at the back of her neck at the word. Between her and Madi, _niron_ is sweet and affectionate, the easy familial devotion that is on par with their tattoo’s that mark them out as kin. But between adults, it’s much more sensual, carries deeper, intimate implications.

“I’m worried about him” Clarke says carefully. 

Echo is quiet again as she picks her way through the undergrowth. “We’ll frighten the animals,” is all she says after a long moment and Clarke stops. She thinks Echo might keep going on without her, but Echo turns with a raised eyebrow. Her expression is cold and haughty.

“I live up North,” Clarke says. “Madi and I, we have a little cabin. I don’t want the Eligius crew to find it. Not yet anyway.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t think you trust Eligius either.”

Echo’s mouth moves but she doesn’t say anything. “Raven and Harper and Murphy are all on good terms with Charmaine or with other crew. Raven doesn’t know you’re with Bellamy, because she wouldn’t have egged Zeke on in flirting with you before you showed up yesterday. And seems to me, if you don’t have something good to say about Eligius, you stay quiet - at least, that’s the impression I got from Monty.”

“So?”

“So, I think you have a reason to not trust them.”

“And you think that reason is Bellamy.”

“Is there another?”

Echo is quiet again. “Roan used to say,” she finally says, a nasty curl to her mouth. “That there was no keeping secrets from Wanheda. Somehow, you weaseled your way into everything. I always just thought it was because he wanted to fuck you.”

Rising to Echo’s barbs is pointless. “Everyone says Bellamy’s fine, but you’re the only person I’ve seen him with since you landed. Please,” Clarke adds. “I just want to help.”

“And how could you help?” Echo asks cooly, but Clarke sees she’s getting through to her. Echo is cagey, but Clarke knows the fierce loyalty that runs through her, remembers it from Echo’s mistrust of her years ago, her unfailing devotion to Roan and to Azgeda. She sees it now in her unwillingness to betray what must be Bellamy’s trust in her. 

“Everyone thought I was dead, but Bellamy is the only one who can’t accept that I’m alive,” Clarke says carefully. “He said he heard me die.”

Clarke sees something flicker in Echo’s eyes, something like surprise, and something like realization, but she’s quiet again as she studies Clarke’s face. “Echo, Raven told me the comms on the Ark were shot.”

“They were.” Echo says.

“I radioed everyday that I could,” Clarke says. “Trying to reach you all. Trying to reach him. And I came very, very close to starving to death in the beginning. Are you sure that Go-Sci never got any of those transmissions?”

Echo’s pale face goes paler. “I know we never did. Raven and Monty both said they were fried beyond repair.”

“So how could he have heard that?” 

“They took Bellamy,” Echo says, looking down. “They took all of us, but they took him first.”

“On Eligius?” Clarke breathes. With her lanky, thin form, Echo reminds Clarke of a doe, skittish. One wrong move and she’ll go bounding away. This fragile connection will be lost. 

“Solitary,” Echo says with a nod. 

“And Bellamy got you out of it?”

“Yes. But he was different after that,” Echo says slowly, relief and fear warring on her face and Clarke realizes this must be the first time Echo has ever said any of this outloud. “He said he worked things out, that everything was fine. But he was different.”

Clarke is silent now. She waits for Echo to collect her thoughts. 

“He withdrew. Slowly,” Echo says. “Pulled back from the others, from me. Not all at once, but he spent less and less time with us. For a while, he and I stopped sleeping together.” Her eyes flick up at Clarke, testing her, but Clarke doesn’t react. She wonders what was said about her on the Ark that makes Echo expect a reaction. Or maybe Echo, like everyone else, just assumed that her closeness with Bellamy on Earth had been of a different nature than deep friendship and respect they’d shared.

“What else?” Clarke prompts.

“He stopped sleeping, because when he did-. We all had nightmares, but his changed. When he slept alone, he risked hurting himself.”

Clarke feels her stomach roll and for a moment the world spins around her. “Echo, it sounds like he had PTSD.”

Echo cocks her head at her. “What is that?”

“When someone is traumatized in war, or… or tortured,” Clarke says. “They have flashbacks, nightmares… they distance themselves from other people, or break off relationships all together. And,” she says, as her whole body goes cold. “They can relive their trauma if they get triggered.”

“We had a term for it too: _Kwelnes Haken._ ”

“No,” Clarke says shakily. “It’s not weakness.”

“Azgeda believed it was,” Echo says. “We executed warriors who had it for cowardice.”

Clarke shakes her head. “I don’t believe you think Bellamy’s a coward.”

“No,” Echo says softly. “I never have.”

“That’s why you didn’t tell anyone,” Clarke realizes. “You were protecting him.”

“I share his bed, and I keep him safe. He was getting better-- _was_ better-- before we landed. He hadn’t had a night terror is over a year.”

“They started again?” 

Echo nods in answer.

“It’s because he’s being triggered,” Clarke says, closing her eyes. “My voice is triggering him.”

“You think,” Echo says slowly, brow furrowed as she follows Clarke’s line of thought, skeptical but not dismissive. “That Eligius somehow had your transmissions, and knew to play them for Bellamy?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Clarke admits. “But does anything else make sense?”

“Nothing’s made sense since I left Earth.” Echo says wearily. 

“I know the feeling.” The moss hanging from the branches is starting to glow luminescent in the rays of the sun as it finally crests the mountains. A band of sunlight falls across Echo’s face and Clarke can see the hollows under her eyes, the fatigue that she knows from personal experience is bone deep. “Thank you,” Clarke tells her. “For keeping him safe.”

Echo gives her a blank look. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know. I’m still grateful he had you.”

Echo looks away from her and for the first time, the clench of her hands ease. “We need to keep moving. We have traps to check.”

“Yeah.” Clarke pushes herself up from the fallen log she had sunken down on and flexes her own hands to get the blood flowing. 

She thinks that’s the end of the conversation, but then, several minutes later as Echo watches Clarke swing herself up into a tree to check a bird’s nest, she asks, “So, Wanheda. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find out what happened,” Clarke says dropping back down to earth, two eggs cradled in her palm. “And then we’ll know what to do next.”

“We?”

Clarke glances at Echo’s closed off face. “You know him better than I do.” It hurts to admit, but Echo’s face does that funny little twitch again.

“Only because of you,” Echo says softly. “I haven’t forgotten we owe you our lives.”

~~ ~~

Clarke had left Madi tucked into the back of the Rover when she’d gotten up to hunt, a quick kiss to her forehead and an unheard, whispered promise that she’d be back soon into Madi’s ear. It’s not yet 9 when Clarke and Echo get back to the Eligius camp, more squirrels, a makeshift sling of eggs and a few rabbits slung over their shoulders. Clarke goes as far as smoke lodge she’d seen Bellamy help put together yesterday before she reroutes back to rejoin her charge. 

Madi is used to Clarke being gone when she wakes up. At home, Clarke always woke early, either to check traps as she’s just done or radio her friends early. Madi was good at entertaining herself, and more often than not made them breakfast by the time Clarke rejoined her. After living a year and a half on her own, she was more fine with Clarke’s limited absence. But all the same, Clarke misses her charge when they’re apart. Especially now, with the cold, shaky horror of her realization, she wants Madi’s warmth and solidity with her. Needs to know that Madi’s safe and protected.

She sees the smoke from their little firepit rising before she starts up the path to the outlook, and when she crests the hill, Madi is crouching by the fire, but she’s not alone. She barely registers that Emori and Murphy are sitting with Madi, because across the fire- Clarke’s stomach drops. The man from the woods. McCreary.

She’s across the outlook in a heartbeat, dropping her hand protectively onto Madi’s shoulder. McCreary’s cold, dark eyes track the moment before he lifts them to Clarke’s face. The smile he gives her is not without meaning, nor warning.

“Clarke, you’re back,” Emori says warmly. “Madi was just making us what she says is your famous oatmeal.”

Clarke takes a calming, grounding breath as Madi wraps an arm around Clarke’s leg and gives her a hug hello. Clarke strokes a hand over her head reassuringly. “Is it the usual?” She asks carefully.

Madi looks up at her with her head cocked, trying to suss out Clarke’s question. “No surprises,” she says, maybe thinking of the time she had added grubs for protein before Clarke had gently convinced her they didn’t need to scrounge up bugs anymore. Her answer steadies Clarke- there aren’t any additions from their guests.

“You’re in luck,” she says to the rest of them. “Madi makes the best oatmeal.” She sits down next to the little girl and rubs her back affectionately. 

“We’ll see,” Murphy drawls but he’s watching the pot with interest, and winks at Madi when she looks up. It brings the sudden memory of his cooking in Becca’s mansion roaring back to Clarke’s mind, how naturally adept he’d been with food. 

“I think Madi could give you some pointers,” Clarke teases him. “I bet you’re out of practice cooking.”

“You cook, John?” McCreary rasps from across the fire. “Four years and you’re still keeping secrets from me.” He turns his dark eyes on Clarke once more. “Bet you could tell me a lot about my friend, here.”

“Yeah, sorry McCreary came along,” Murphy says, half jocular, half sincere. “‘Mori and I wanted to see your set up. McCreary decided he had an invitation to Casa Clarke too.”

“He paints such a poor picture of me,” McCreary says, feigning hurt, but there’s a warning underneath his words. “Hard to believe Murphy once admired me, isn’t it?”

“And that was before or after you got kicked off the council?” Murphy says, throwing a small pebble in McCreary’s direction. McCreary catches it without looking and tosses it casually in his palm. There’s a clear ease between the two men that sits on top of the masculine jostling. 

“Resigned,” McCreary says with a laugh. “Resigned, John. I used to be head of security.” He closes his hands and rolls the pebble between them as he looks Clarke over again. “Robert McCreary. It is a _pleasure_ to finally meet you, Clarke. You have the whole camp a-twitter.”

His accent is similar to Zeke’s, but more clipped, more nasal. 

Clarke just nods. “So I’ve heard.” 

“And your daughter,” McCreary says, his eyes falling to Madi. “Such a little delight.”

“Ah, she’s a _pakstoka_ ,” Emori says, affection cloaking her edge. “And everyone knows the pups have the sharpest teeth.”

Madi grins and bears her teeth playfully at Emori, who mock-growls right back. 

“My mistake,” McCreary says. “I’m just so used to seeing sheep.”

The tingle that Clarke had felt up her spine when she had confronted McCreary in the woods whispers again at her back. 

“Why resign from head of security?” Clarke asks bluntly. 

A smile ghosts across McCreary’s gaunt features. “Thought I’d take myself out of the public eye for a while. My talents weren’t all that needed anymore.”

“Must have been a disappointment,” Clarke ventures. 

“Hardly,” McCreary says. “A public servant is always pleased when they’ve worked themself out of a job. It shows you’ve made the most impact. Besides, what’s not to love about early morning ship maintenance shifts?”

“Ark should have functioned that way,” Murphy says dryly. “Can you imagine? Jaha fucking off when he figured he’d floated enough people?”

Clarke makes herself laugh. They change the topic, but Clarke can’t shake the unease she feels every time that McCreary’s calculating eyes fall on her, on Madi. She appreciates Murphy and Emori’s visit, she’s finding it’s easier to reorient with her old friends in smaller groups like this than when they’re all together in the evening, but McCreary’s presence feels opportunistic. He takes part in their conversation, but Clarke catches his attention wandering too often to the Rover, and she can’t help but feel like he’s making a mental inventory of what he can see from the open back door.

Clarke catches Emori wince when she accepts the bowl of oatmeal from Madi. “Are you ok?” she asks her.

“Yeah, just burned by hand this morning. It’s nothing serious,” Emori assures her, but when Clarke insists on inspecting it, the skin is raw and blistered. 

“Hold on,” Clarke tells her. “I have a salve for that.”

She leaves Murphy trading knock knock jokes with Madi and goes to dig through the small bag of herbal remedies she’d brought from home with them. She startles violently when she turns back and McCreary is leaning against the back door. 

“This really where you live?” McCreary asks, looking around the inside of the Rover. “Awfully small.”

“Madi and I don’t need much,” Clarke half lies and makes him step back as she jumps down, salve in hand and firmly closes the back door. “Excuse me.”

“Clarke, listen,” McCreary says, catching her arm, voice pitched low. “I have some information you might want.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clarke says, firmly shaking off his hand. “I have nothing to barter for with you.”

“I’m sorry about the woods,” McCreary says. “I think I frightened you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I find you fascinating, Clarke,” McCreary continues, shifting his weight so that Clarke can’t quite push past him. “Mostly because I know what you’ve been through. Your messages were gripping to listen to.”

That stops Clarke and she looks at him, a cool fear rising in her chest.

“Forgive me, but as the former Head of Security, old habits die hard. I don’t mean to intimidate you.”

“I think you do. What are you trying to say?”

“Only that I believe it’s in your interests to ask Charmaine about how she secured your good friend Blake’s loyalty.”

“And how would you know what’s in my interests?” Her heart is pounding wildly in her chest. Beyond McCreary she can see Madi laughing at something Emori has just said. He wouldn’t dare to hurt her here, in front of witnesses, if he didn’t hurt her in the woods. Clarke takes a breath.

“I have to say that I grew attached to you, listening to you radio day after day. Such dogged faith that your friends were alive. So many daily triumphs, and fears, and poignant confessions... It must hurt that Bellamy refuses to remember you.”

Clarke feels the blood drain from her face. “You followed me last night.” His presence outside the Eligius ship clicks into place. He wasn’t watching the ship. He was watching her. She had been so focused on Bellamy she’d forgotten to watch her own back.

“Which I know you asked me not to do,” McCreary says, raising his hands. “And why I offer this information on good faith.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I can’t change what you believe. But if you want answers, I’m telling you how to find them.” He turns away from her.

“Wait.”

He turns back, an eyebrow raised. 

“How many of my messages did Eligius receive?”

“How many messages did you send?”

~~ ~~

“What are we doing today?” Madi asks, collecting the empty bowls from around the fire and scrubbing them clean from the water tank they keep on top of the Rover. The whistle had blown signaling a shift change, and Emori, Murphy and McCreary had gone. “Can we go see Raven again? Or Harper?”

She dances back over to Clarke and tugs on her hands. Her shyness and caution around the others is quickly vanishing, replaced by delight and curiosity at all the new people and things to learn.

“We have your lessons,” Clarke says. She needs a moment away from the camp, away from the others, to collect herself. Her realization early this morning with Echo, and the unprompted, half confirmation of it from McCreary has left her unbalanced. Madi groans dramatically and it settles something in Clarke’s chest. “Come on, get your books,” she says swinging Madi’s hands in her own.

“Why do I have to have lessons now?” Madi whines all the way to the Rover and back again. “Everything’s different. I could be learning how to build things with Harper. Or Raven said she wanted to teach me more about mechanics.”

“I’m sure she did,” Clarke says. “And you can definitely do that later, if she’s free. But right now, we’re going to work on math.”

Madi looks so offended that Clarke can’t help but laugh. “If you want to be a mechanic like Raven, half of it is understanding math and science.”

Madi looks at her suspiciously. “Are you lying?”

“I swear I’m not. Listen, let’s do this now, and then later you and I can see Monty. He uses math and science all the time too.”

Madi still looks skeptical, but she clambers up onto the hood of the Rover and she reads aloud to Clarke from the old textbook that Clarke had salvaged. She stumbles over some of the words and glances up at Clarke for clarification. Clarke explains some of the harder concepts as best she can, then she writes out math problems in the dirt for Madi to solve. They’re working on fractions, and Madi’s a quick study. She understands cross multiplying pretty quickly and never gets overwhelmed or frustrated when she gets stuck. She just buckles down and starts over. 

Clarke watches her puzzle through finding a common denominator for _⅜ + ⅘_ , her brow creased as she balances on her heels and does silent multiplication in her head. “Don’t overthink it,” Clarke advises. 

Moments later, Madi’s solved it. She grins up at Clarke, delighted in her own cleverness and Clarke feels her heart clench painfully. “Nice job,” she says and pats the hood of the truck. Madi hops up next to her again, swinging her feet. 

“More?” She always ends up enjoying her lessons despite her complaining once they get into them. She reminds Clarke of a young Wells in that way: always eager to learn more. 

“Listen, you know you matter more to me than anything else, right?” Clarke asks her softly. Madi nods and holds out her wrist. The two thin, black stripes that match the ones on Clarke’s wrist are vivid on her pale skin. They grow together and loop around each other, interlocking before the continue up her arm, parallel. 

“We’re _seingeda_.”

“That’s right,” Clarke says, holding out her wrist as well so they can see their bond between them. “Family. I know things aren’t what I told you they would be, but nothing’s changed between us.”

“It’s okay, Clarke.” Madi scoots closer and leans into Clarke’s side, butting her forehead against Clarke’s. “Even the bravest, most badass warrior can’t predict the future.”

“It’d be cool if she could though,” Clarke says with a laugh and rubs Madi’s arm. “Are you okay though? I know a lot has happened, and we haven’t gotten much time to ourselves.”

“I miss my bed,” Madi admits. “And the chickens. Do you think they’re ok?”

“I think they are. They’ve got lots of bugs to eat to keep them happy.”

She feels Madi nod against her shoulder and the deep sigh that moves her whole body. “Are we going home soon?”

Clarke hesitates. “My first priority is to keep you safe. That will always come first. But there are also somethings here I need to figure out before we think about going home.”

“Like what?”

“Some complicated things, _ai niron_. Things I don’t want you to worry about right now.”

“Will you tell me eventually?”

“Yes. I will.”

“Okay,” Madi says.

“Hey, you want to go see Monty with me?”

“Yes!” Madi leaps up, delighted, and stuffs her books back into the side-slung bag that holds them. “Do you think tomorrow Bellamy will come visit us?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke says as honestly as she can. “I’d like him to.”

~~ ~~

Monty, like Raven, is set up in one of the Crabs. He’s got blueprints spread out in front of him, fingers steepled in front of his face as he’s considering them. When Clarke raps on the metal side of the ship, he looks up blearily.

“Oh hey, Clarke. Madi. Come on in.”

Madi is looking around the Crab with awe, craning her head back to study the tall ceiling of the craft. “It’s so big,” she says.

“Madi and I were going over fractions earlier, and I told her you used math to design ships.”

“Oh, I do. Do you want to see?” Monty asks Madi and she nods and hurries over to his side. She peers at his blueprints and her face falls.

“I don’t know how to do any of this.”

“How old are you?” Monty asks with a chuckle.

“Eleven.”

“I had no idea how to do any of this at eleven,” Monty assures her. “But it’s not that complicated. Here-”

Clarke busies herself by poking around the Crab as Monty breaks down the complex equations and theories behind the design he’s working on. She pulls one of Monty’s unused blueprints towards her and studies it. It’s schematics of the Eligius ship and she traces the path Zeke gave her yesterday to the bridge. She locates the huge atrium of cells that she saw and from the follows hallways with her finger. She finds the engine room and a smaller hangar bay, a mess hall and smaller clusters of rooms that look like living spaces. 

“What are you finding?” Monty asks her and Clarke starts. He’s leaning next to her shoulder and smiles at her knowingly. Madi is scratching something out on a holoboard, clearly copying some of Monty’s calculations. 

“Just playing catch up,” Clarke admits.

“Sure you were. I remember how you were in Mount Weather: you had to know all the exits.”

Clarke feels her smile flicker at the memory. “I guess some things don’t change.”

“Right here,” Monty says instead of answering, reaching across Clarke to tap at another atrium of what looks like cells. “That’s where we were held when we first got picked up. Over here,” his finger traces a route deeper into the ship. “This is where we lived after.”

Clarke bites her lip. “Monty, I have a favor to ask.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” He doesn’t say it with malice, just a low, tired chuckle. “You don’t like Eligius do you?”

“I don’t know them. What do you know about Robert McCreary?”

“Murphy’s friend? Nothing much. He keeps to himself.”

“He told me I should ask Charmaine about Bellamy.”

Monty’s face does something funny at that. “Clarke-”

“I know. I figured it was a bad idea.”

“Charmaine isn’t a bad person. But questioning her would be seen as an act of dissent or mistrust. I wouldn’t unless you had a bargaining chip.”

“Which I don’t. And which is why I wanted to talk to you. A ship like this, there had to be surveillance, right? It was a prison ship first.”

“Every room has monitors in it,” Monty agrees. “For the most part, I think they’re widely unused now except for in public spaces.”

“What about when you were first picked up? Did they have cameras on you then?”

Monty closes his eyes as he thinks. “Yes. There were.”

“Do you think I could somehow access that footage?”

Monty frowns. “You’d need a security clearance.”

“Who has that?”

“No one but the highest ranking members of the council. And the head of security.”

“Is it something that can be hacked?”

The look Monty gives her is flat . “Anything can be hacked.” Clarke lifts her eyebrows at him. “What particularly did you want to see.”

“I want to see what happened to Bellamy in solitary.”

“Because of what McCreary said?” Monty asks skeptically. “Clarke, I wouldn’t trust him.”

“Something happened to Bellamy. I know how that sounds-” Clarke says quickly at Monty’s expression. “But he’s so different Monty. I mean, think about who he was when we were younger. I know we’re all different, but I don’t think this is who he would have become.”

“Yeah,” Monty says, shaking his head. “Somethings really don’t change.”

“What?”

“You always worried about Bellamy,’ Monty says and it’s gentle, but it still stings. “But... “ Monty trails off, lost in thought. “I don’t know. It’s possible.”

“You’ll help me?” Clarke asks, squeezing Monty’s arm. 

“When have I ever been able to say no to you?”

“I can think of several,” Clarke says and Monty looks down suddenly.

“I wasn’t always a good friend to you- I’m sorry about that, Clarke.”

“You don’t need to be,” Clarke assures him. “I didn’t always make the best decisions.”

“But you did more than the rest of us did. We’re all alive because of you.”

“It goes both ways,” Clarke says softly. “I promise.”

~~ ~~

“Eat the carrots, Madi,” Clarke says, glancing into Madi’s bowl of thin rabbit stew. Madi gives her a look and proceeds to mash one of the carrots in half rather than eat it. 

“Why can’t I come with you tonight?”

Clarke sighs and drops down to sit with Madi, who’s in one of her rare but well perfected moods. She brushes her dark hair back over her shoulder so she can look at Madi’s profile, but the little girl shrugs her off. “Don’t be mad at me.”

“I want to go too.”

“And I want to make sure you get enough sleep and stay healthy,” Clarke counters. “And don’t you want to hang out with Raven?”

Madi doesn’t have a come back for that, and she knows Clarke got her if the look she gives her is anything to go by.

“Come on, if you don’t eat your carrots, I’m going to,” Clarke teases and reaches into Madi’s bowl to snag one of the chunks.

“No, Clarke!” Madi yelps and whips her bowl away, but it’s brought a smile back to her face and Clarke presses a smacking kiss to her cheek until Madi finally giggles and squirms away. 

“Finish up, goofball, and we can do a story before I head out.”

Madi splutters with how quickly she wolfs down her soup and Clarke pats her on the back, only a little exasperated. She’s wriggled under the blankets in the back of the Rover by the time Raven’s come up to the Overlook, and her old friend sits on the tailgate of the Rover and listens to Clarke weave pictures of their youth, the pop and sizzle of red rockets: the first true triumph of the delinquents.

“Another,” Madi whispers and Clarke laughs and brushes her nose across Madi’s in a butterfly kiss. 

“Maybe Raven has a story for you.”

“I can’t compete with that,” Raven protests and when Clarke glances at her, Raven’s eyes are distant, lost in the old memories.

“What about up on Go-Sci?” Clarke prompts gently. “Madi likes stories about Space.”

“Yes,” Madi whisper-hisses, and Clarke laughs. 

“ _Ai hod yu in._ Be good for Raven.”

“ _Ai hod yu in_ ,” Madi murmurs after her. Clarke gives Raven a grateful pat on the shoulder as she jumps out of the Rover.

“Thanks again.”

“No problem. What are you and Monty up to anyway?”

“Oh, we’re just catching up,” Clarke hedges. The fewer people who know what they’re doing, the less potential collateral. She’d rather she could do this alone, but she can’t do what Monty can. “I shouldn’t be too late.”

“Take your time,” Raven says. “The kiddo and I will be fine. Besides,” she says, rapping her knuckles against the Rover. “I get to spend time with this baby too.”

Clarke snorts. “Don’t get too handsy.”

“Get out of here,” Raven says, whacking at Clarke’s side. “We’re going to have _fun_.”

The path down from the overlook is dark and Clarke pulls up her hood in the shadows. Monty is sitting at a fire with Harper and Emori, and stands readily when he sees Clarke.

“Ready?”

The Eligius ship isn’t guarded, there’s no need. No one’s in the ship as Monty guides them through the echoing halls. It seems everyone feels the way Zeke had. Monty key codes them into a shabby little room and firmly closes the door behind them. Clarke looks around. It’s a far cry from a security HQ, which a prison ship undoubtedly has. It’s barely the size of a janitor’s closet, with just a single monitor setup.

“Where are we?” 

“An old guard booth,” Monty says dropping into one of the chairs and booting up the computer. “The computers here were mostly for entertainment, alerts, that sort of thing. Nothing serious got stored on them.”

Clarke leans on the back of his chair. “So how-”

“Remote access,” Monty says before she can finish her question. ‘’It’s still connected to the ship’s main hard drive. Just give me a minute…”

Clarke takes a step back and lets him work. The walls in here are dingy grey. A faded, worn poster of a woman with a thin bra and panties is stuck up on the wall. Clarke studies her curves for a moment, her mouth, and then looks away. Whoever monitored this post was bored. 

“There,” Monty says, not a little pride in his voice as the monitor flickers and a new screen appears, blue with a white seal of laurels and a map. “We have access to everything on the database.”

Clarke holds her breath as Monty’s fingers continue to fly across the keyboard and within moments, he’s pulled up a separate window of old security footage. 

“Wait,” Clarke says, her heart suddenly racing. “Can you access their call log?”

“Uh, sure.” 

Monty pulls up ship comms. There’s nothing listed in their records. He looks questioningly at Clarke.

“Who would have access to these logs?” Clarke asks, tapping her finger against the desk.

“Anyone who was working a shift on the bridge, or monitoring comms.”

“So no clearance necessary?”

“No. Not a high one anyway.”

“If they were receiving transmissions from the same source, could they possibly hide them from the main comms?”

Monty frowns too. “Maybe, if what was coming in was on one set frequency, they could keep the main comms from reading it as a hail signal, and receive it on another channel but-”

“Could you find something like that?”

Monty doesn’t answer, but after only a few minutes, he’s located exactly that. The screen blinks and then a long list begins to populate the screen, scrolling down so that the individual files become a blur. 

“Woah,” Monty says. “What’s that?”

“That’s me,” Clarke says leaning back in her chair. 

“What?”

“Those are all the times I tried to radio you on Go-Sci,” Clarke says bleakly. “How many are there?”

Monty pulls up a list count. _2199_ blinks green on the screen. 

“Can you see if those transmissions recorded?”

Monty nods and several overrides later, he has another scrolling list of audio files. He’s frowning at the screen when Clarke looks at him.

“What is it?”

“It looks like,” Monty says slowly as he clicks through some of the files on the screen. “Some of them have been copied… doctored. I should be able to...”

He trails off but a few moments of searching produces an audio file labeled: ‘ _Auditory Conditioning: Bellamy’._

“What the fuck?” Monty murmurs, frowning at the screen. Clarke covers her face as Monty opens it. From the thin, weak speakers of the computer, there’s a moment of static, and then, “ _Bellamy?”_ A wet, ragged cough follows and Monty turns to stare at her in horror. “ _Bellamy, come in.”_

“That’s-”

“The first day I could radio,” Clarke says, her stomach turning. She had forgotten how awful the first few weeks were, but the sound of her own hoarse voice brings back the memory of her radiation burned throat and cracked lips. The broken skin and blisters that covered her face, hands, feet, whole body... Back then, every breath had torn it’s way through her, being conscious alone had been hell, but she had still radioed.

“Clarke,” Monty says brokenly and reaches out to take her hand. 

“ _I’m alive,”_ Clarke’s voice whispers from the speakers. She had just wanted to die, Clarke remembers. She had been so ready to, but somehow, despite her best intentions, life had clung to her. When the radiation hadn’t killed her, the loneliness had set in, and Clarke had dragged herself across the floor to the flickering, static-filled screens to find that somehow, one radio still gave a cheerful beep when she tested it. _“For now anyway.”_

She had just wanted to speak to her friends one last time. _“The nightblood, it worked. But it’s uh. It’s not looking good.”_ It was selfish, but she didn’t want to die alone. She remembers thinking if they thought she might live, they might answer her.

Monty abruptly stops the file. “Clarke,” he says. “Hey, Clarke.”

Clarke looks up blearily at him, dragging herself back from Becca’s lab. Back from the pain, the loneliness, the fear. Monty’s eyes are wet. 

“I had no idea,” he chokes. “We had no idea you were alive.”

“I know,” she whispers and grabs his hands right back. “It’s ok, Monty. Can you- how long is that file?”

Monty stares at her for a moment and she gives him a small encouraging nod. She can’t dwell on this now. “How long, Monty?”

He turns back from her and looks at the specs. “Eight hours of audio.”

“That’s so few,” Clarke says, taking a deep breath to push back the memories that are threatening to suck her back down. It’s been so long since she had been so hopeless. 

“It looks like it’s only made up of some of the early transmissions. The first two months.”

“Can you figure out which the last one they included one it is?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Bellamy_ ,” her voice whispers, weak, thready. Clarke closes her eyes. “ _It’s ok. It’s all blue light now. It’s ok…”_

“I don’t remember this one,” she says.

“Do you think it’s doctored?”

“No. I think I was delirious.” 

Her voice proves her to be true. It wavers in and out, barely strong enough to continue through its short, painful message. She sounds like she’s dying. She was, Clarke realizes with a funny jolt. She had been on the brink of death and still clung to the radio. 

Monty chokes and reaches for her again as she murmurs Jasper’s name. “How are you alive?” he whispers.

Clarke reaches over him and goes back to the main screen of the transmission files. “Play the next one, after the ones they culled.”

“ _Good news,”_ Clarke says, her voice still weak, but decidedly stronger than the last one. “ _The computers seemed to have rebooted. Raven, maybe you can explain to me how you get computers to autofix after radiation induced failure. I sure as hell don’t know. Some Becca magic if I ever saw any._ ” There’s a dry chuckle that comes through the Comms. “ _Anyway, the MRA manufacturing is back online. So, prospects are… I can’t say good but... I’m still breathing.”_

There’s more, but Clarke stops it again. That transmission is only two months into her being alone on Earth, and clearly it didn’t serve the purpose of whoever doctored the file.

“Now find me the footage from when you were in solitary,” Clarke says.

It isn’t hard to find. There’s a whole archive of footage of the brig. They flip through the initial monitoring of when the seven of her friends were initially brought onto the ship. Clarke winces at the cuts and bruises on their faces. 

Monty lets the footage play while he keeps searching. “Ok. Here,” he says, interrupting Clarke from where she’s watching Emori and Raven try to quietly sign to each other from their separated cells. “You sure you want to look at this?”

“Yes,” Clarke says softly. “I have to know. If you don’t want-”

“No. I do too.”

The cell that the new window shows is small, militant in its barrenness and Monty sucks in a low breath.

“That wasn’t- we were given rooms,” Monty says. “We had cots.”

Bellamy stumbles into the cell, the door slamming shut behind him and Clarke has to resist reaching out and touching his image on the screen. He looks so young, so close to her memories of him. Monty’s set the footage to triple speed and they watch as Bellamy secures himself against the back wall and watches the door, intent despite the long time he waits: tensed and ready.

When the two guards show up, Monty quickly readjusts the footage speed, and Clarke recognizes McCreary, his lanky hair and gaunt features hard to miss.

She’s only half paying attention to what’s being said. Bellamy’s posturing on screen, she can see it, the way he used to hold himself when he was bone tired but refusing to back down. She knows that stance so well.

When her voice cuts in through the speakers in the cell, Bellamy’s head whips around, eyes wild and Clarke has to muffle her soft keen. 

“ _Clarke_?” Bellamy chokes, and he sounds so hopeful. “ _Clarke. She’s- she’s here?”_

The guards mock him, but Bellamy is dogged, as he always was. “ _You have to go to Earth. If she survived Praimfaya she still may be alive. Please. Whatever you want, I’ll give it you to you. But we have to find her.”_

There's laughter from the McCreary and his lackey. Her voice continues to wrap around them all. " _You think she's alive?_ "

" _She could be._ "

“Skip ahead,” Clarke grits out. She can’t watch this, watch Bellamy beg for her life with that old, unwavering faith in her when she knows what’s to come. “Please.”

Monty cuts a few hours ahead in the footage and Bellamy has shrunk down against the wall, hands bracketed over his ears as Clarke’s voice buzzes from the speakers. “How long is this?” Clarke asks, feeling light headed as Bellamy shouts something on the screen. 

“Clarke-”

“How long?”

“Total run time… forty-five days, and fifteen hours.”

“Oh my god,” Clarke says and buries her face in her hands again. Her reedy voice threads around them and Clarke takes a shaky breath. 

“We don’t have to go all the way through,” Monty says. “You don’t have to see this.”

“Yes I do,” Clarke croaks. “These are my transmissions.”

“I’ll click through,” Monty says gently, but he sounds just as shaken. He jumps a few days ahead and Bellamy is pacing his cell, turns and slams his fist into a wall. Monty jumps ahead, and Bellamy is retching into the tiny toilet in the corner. Monty jumps ahead: Bellamy is pounding at the door of his cell. Monty jumps ahead: Bellamy is twisting awake, shouting Clarke’s name.

“Just the end,” Clarke whispers, closing her eyes. She’s seen enough. 

“How far?”

“The last day.”

Bellamy is huddled in the corner of his cell when Monty adjusts the track. He’s slumped forward, face hidden in his legs and chest. His body is stiff, but it’s not the tension of awareness, it’s the braced, frozen muscles of someone in deep pain. He doesn’t move at all until, on triple speed the door flies open and Monty quickly backs it up and plays it again and normal speed without Clarke’s prompting. 

“- _ying or yelling these days,”_ Clarke’s voice muses. _“At least you didn’t-”_

Charmaine steps through the door of the cell and the camera catches her nose wrinkle. “ _Turn it off,”_ she says and Clarke’s voice cuts abruptly off. Bellamy flinches in the corner but doesn’t move. Charmaine considers him and then crosses the small space and kneels in front of him. She places a gentle hand on Bellamy’s arm and his head jerks up, his whole body spasming.

 _“Such a terrible thing to listen to,_ ” Charmaine muses. “ _Perhaps you don’t want to listen anymore?”_

Bellamy’s mouth opens a few times before he manages. “ _No, I don’t_.” His voice is rusty from misuse.

“ _Let us talk somewhere more comfortable. You will not be so resistant anymore, I think_.”

“ _I won’t,_ ” Bellamy rasps. Charmaine considers him before she stands up and offers him a hand. Bellamy takes it and lets her pull him to his feet. He’s shaking, visibly, and has to steady himself against the wall. 

“ _We should feed you. Perhaps something to calm your nerves. Would you like that?_ ”

“ _Uh, please_.” He’s looking at Charmaine with a mix of confusion and hopefulness that breaks Clarke’s heart. Anyone, she thinks, who made her voice on the radio stop would be an ally in Bellamy’s eyes at that point. And Bellamy’s always been surprised by kindness. “ _My people-_ ”

“ _All are safe. And in perfect health. You’ll see them once we talk_. _Come._ ” Charmaine moves slowly towards the door and Bellamy follows her, unsteady but resolved. When he reaches the door of the cell, he doesn’t look back. 

The camera rolls on the empty cell for a few moments before it cuts abruptly to black and leaves Monty and Clarke silent in the monitor’s blue glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
>  _Niron_ : Loved one  
>  _Kwelnes Haken_ : The Weak Sickness  
>  _seingeda_ : Family  
>  _Ai hod yu in_ : I love you
> 
> \--
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! As always, comments and kudos are amazing and so appreciated.
> 
> And... if anyone makes banners and feels inspired to make one for this fic, I'd love to show off your work and have something pretty to use on tumblr posts. I know this fandom is crazy full of talent.


	4. Day 2,203

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, clearly this is a season 5 au now and no longer spec BUT GOOD LORD am I excited. I'm not even a little upset.
> 
> Once again, AHHHH thank you for all the amazing comments and feedback! I'll try to reply to them individually within the next day or so, but they really always make me smile to get and keep me motivated!! Y'all are wonderful.
> 
> Thank to my writing coven as always, and my beta @cetaprincipessa.

When Clarke makes it back up to the Rover, it’s well past midnight and Emori has joined Raven at the small fire Clarke had left burning. She’s near silent in the dark, lost in her own thoughts and the horror of what she’d just seen so that she doesn’t think to make noise in order to not startle her friend. Neither of them notice Clarke, and Clarke pauses as she catches sight of them: Emori’s head resting in Raven’s lap as Raven strokes her fingers lightly down Emori’s nose, her other hand interlaced with Emori’s on her stomach. Their voices as they murmur to each other are low and affectionate. 

Clarke finds a stick in the dark and helpfully steps on it to give them a moment before she steps into the ring of firelight. Emori sits up slowly, but without any embarrassment. “Hello, Clarke.”

“Hey,” Clarke says, dropping down across the fire from them. “How was Madi?”

“Golden,” Raven says, squeezing Emori’s fingers but withdrawing her own. “Your girl’s got a bug for stories.”

“How many did she ask for?” Clarke asks, trying to imbue some levity into her voice. 

_“Don’t be stupid,”_ Monty had begged as they had quietly slipped back out of the Eligius ship. “ _Please, Clarke_.”

“ _What do you think I’m going to do?”_ Clarke had asked, maybe a little more cutting that she intended. 

Monty had just pointed to a security mirror perched on a sharp corner, capturing their image and the long hallway they were about to turn down. Clarke had caught sight of her reflection, and almost didn’t recognize herself. The rage and grief had been raw on her features, making her look wild, feral. _“That look tells me you’re planning something.”_

 _“Nothing tonight, I promise.”_ And she’d meant it. Every part of her is screaming to act, but to be rash is a near death sentence and she knows it. 

“Only about fifty,” Raven laughs. “Had tons of questions. I think she fell asleep mid-sentence.”

“Sounds right,” Clarke chuckles and combs her hair off her face. “Thanks for looking after her. You’re a bit of an idol in her eyes. Both of you are. ‘The girls in space.’”

“I wouldn’t discount how much she idolizes you,” Emori says softly. “We’re giants in her eyes because of you.”

“How was reconnecting with Monty?” Raven asks.

“Oh. Good,” Clarke manages. “We walked the camp.”

“Did you see the digs Charmaine’s got going for herself?” Raven asks with a laugh. “It’s like what Bellamy set up for himself at the dropship. Except it’s not a bachelor pad.”

“I must have missed it,” Clarke says with a twitch of her lips. “Are you two ok? Do you need anything for your lean-tos?”

“Nah,” Raven says looking at Emori thoughtfully. “We’re pretty comfortable.”

“Except for John’s snoring,” Emori says with a low laugh. The firelight flickers between her and Raven and the smile they exchange. Clarke feels a funny ache in her chest. She misses that: the quiet, silent communication that comes with intimacy. For a desperate, dizzying moment, she wishes Bellamy were by her side up here, for a whole slew of reasons.

“You look tired,” Emori says, studying Clarke. “Raven, we should go, let Clarke get some rest.”

“Oh, Madi wanted to know if she could hang with me,” Raven says as she stands up. “I said it was up to you. But I’m cool with it if you’re working a shift, or just want a few hours.”

“Thanks,” Clarke says, reaching up to clasp Raven’s hand as the two girls pass. “I’m sure she’ll love that.”

She tucks the small holoboard on which Monty had downloaded what they’d found in the back of the small basket that holds her sketchbook, and then crawls into bed with Madi. Madi doesn’t wake, but she murmurs in her sleep and shifts closer to Clarke, seeking her warmth. Clarke hushes her softly and retucks the blankets back around Madi’s petite frame. She doesn’t trust herself to sleep just yet, imagines that, like Bellamy, her dreams will be plagued by terror. But the familiar confines of the Rover and Madi’s peaceful breathing is calming. Clarke closes her eyes and just listens. 

~~ ~~

Clarke drops Madi off with Raven the next morning, early. 

Madi is bright eyed and hums her way down the path, darting ahead and then rushing back to grab Clarke’s hand again. “What are we doing this morning?” Madi asks her. “Are you going to stay with me and Raven?”

“I’ll come hang with you guys in a little while,” Clarke promises. “There are just some things I need to take care of.”

“Can I help?”

Clarke presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll let you know the second you can.”

Madi is a little hesitant to let Clarke go when she hugs her, which is new and gives Clarke pause. “Hey, you ok?” She asks her, ducking a little so she can look Madi in the face. 

Madi shrugs. “I feel funny.”

“Like sick, sweetheart?” Clarke presses her palm to Madi’s forehead. 

“No. You’re just spending so much time away from me.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Clarke says, drawing Madi close. “Not by choice, ok? Never by choice. What did I tell you yesterday?”

“That we’re family.”

“And I meant it. You always come first for me. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Madi says, not quite meeting her eyes. Clarke presses her lips together.

“ _Ai niron,_ it’s really important to me that you know that. Everything I’m doing, it’s to give us the best life possible, ok?”

“I know, Clarke,” Madi says, sneaking her hand into Clarke’s. 

“What can I do to help?” Clarke asks, stroking her daughter’s hair.

“Can we spend time together this afternoon?”

“You know what? Why don’t you come hunting with me and Echo. We can show her how fierce you are, hm?”

“Ok!” Madi’s brightens a little. “And we can have dinner together too?”

“Yes. Dinner and the whole evening.”

“Promise?”

“ _Gyon skaifaya au an komba raun nodotaim_ , hey?”

“Ok,” Madi says and the tension in her eases. The old ferocity of the promise seems to calm her. “Love you, Clarke.”

“I love you so much,” Clarke says and hugs Madi tightly again. “Now, you tell Raven that no funny business is allowed ok?”

Madi gives her a sly look and then crosses her eyes and sticks out her tongue. “Hey,” Clarke laughs, trying to sound stern. “What did I just say? Stop that.” Madi dances out of her grasp and blows a raspberry in Clarke’s direction before she scampers into Raven’s shop. Clarke hears her friend greet Madi and hears Zeke’s surprised laugh. Madi’s going to be just fine.

Clarke makes her way around camp, careful to stay out the way of work crews. The camp is fast growing. She would hardly guess that Eligius had only been here for a little over four days. The smokelodge is near complete, and Eligius crew members swarm over one of the Crabs, breaking it down even as external structure is being built up around it. Clarke thinks she hears Bellamy’s voice at one point, but she doesn’t turn to find him. She needs to stay focused now.

Raven was right- Charmaine’s quarters are hard to miss. While most of the lean-to’s are hastily assembled canvas flaps fitted up over tee-peed branches, Charmaine’s lodging looks akin to what Clarke remembers of Lexa’s war tent. It’s pavilion-like, tall enough to stand under and has to be at least thirty paces wide. Clarke pauses to collect herself and eyes the man that’s sitting on a low log outside the flap.

He’s older than many of the other crew members, hair short and greying. He glances up as Clarke approaches and grunts. “What do you want?”

“Is she up?” Clarke asks, lifting her chin at the pavilion. 

“Maybe. But she don’t want to see nobody.”

“Good thing I’m not Odysseus then,” Clarke says. The man squints at her and Clarke shakes her head. She can almost hear Bellamy’s derisive huff at her bad joke, knows how the corner of his eyes would crinkle.. Later, she tells herself. She’ll tell him this story later. “Are you going to stop me if I go in?” Clarke asks. The man hasn’t bothered to stand up from the log.

“I ain’t yer keeper,” the man drawls. “And I ain’t attending yer funeral if you do.”

“Fair enough,” Clarke says doesn’t bother with much more ceremony before she steps into the dim lit tent. 

“Bold,” Charmaine says, looking up from where she’s sitting on a stump, and old book in her hands. She’s not yet dressed for the day: only in leggings and a loose, grey shirt that falls with a surprisingly elegant drape down her body. The neck falls just below her collar bones, revealing a raised, jagged scar across her throat. “You are fast becoming a nuisance,” she warns. “What is it now?”

“I know what you did,” Clarke says, just barely managing to keep her voice even. “To Bellamy.”

“Ah,” Charmaine says, entirely unfazed. “And?”

“‘And?’” Clarke asks in disbelief. “Is that all you have to say?”

“You want me to what, gasp in horror? Deny everything?” Charmaine leans her chin on her hand. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“You used my radio calls to convince Bellamy I was dead, when you knew I wasn’t.” Clarke grits out. “And for what?”

“I had to guarantee his and the other’s loyalty.”

“You picked them up off of a dead space station, I think you could have guaranteed their loyalty by treating them as people, not locking them up.”

“It was for the greater good,” Charmaine says, looking back down at her book. “Anything else?”

“Greater good?” Clarke spits. “You tortured Bellamy.”

“Let me ask you something,” Charmaine says, almost impatient as she looks back up at Clarke. “Do you know what Utilitarianism is?”

“Sorry, I missed philosophy class when I was learning Earth skills, trying to learn how to survive on a planet that your generation overpopulated, depleted and created weapons to destroy,” Clarke says and Charmaine’s eyes flash with amusement.

“Utilitarianism,” Charmaine says instead of rising to Clarke’s bait, “is the concept that the happiness of the many, of the community, dictate the choices we make. Everything, every preference, is equal and weighed to determine the direction the community wants to move in. It’s not so different from the philosophy of socialism, what you were raised in, no?”

“We didn’t torture innocent people.”

“But you executed every criminal regardless of their crime to keep your community safe. The very same needs of the many.” 

“My father was one of those people, I would have been too. I never enforced that system, I changed it when I got to the ground.”

“I’m merely trying to offer a comparable example, not create a debate about which of us has suffered worse,” Charmaine says archly. 

“This,” she says, tapping at the scar on her throat. “I got when my government locked me up for protesting the continued advances in unregulated nuclear plants, the kind that poisoned the air and devastated generations of the poorest in our country. They sent me to prison for trying to protect the citizens they were elected to serve. And then they sent someone to kill me. When they couldn’t, they sent me to space. Trust me, I am well versed in injustice.”

“And you decided to perpetuate that?” Clarke asks bluntly. “You didn’t even have a reason to do what you did to Bellamy.”

“I’m doing the opposite of what was done to me, Clarke. Utilitarianism dictates that the happiness and the safety of my community rests on all of us being in agreement: in all of us being one people with common loyalties and common goals. In this fashion, we all work towards what makes the most of us happy. Of course, for the greatest happiness to dictate our society, sometimes small sufferings must be endured, but we seek to eliminate those when possible. Every one of my people has accepted this.”

“Just to be clear, you’re calling psychological torture ‘small suffering’.”

“Yes, Clarke,” Charmaine says, almost impatient. “That is what I believe. I needed Bellamy and the rest of your friends to have loyalty to us, not just to each other. Having a divided group, no matter how small, risked creating a rift in the fabric of what has held us together ever since we took back our lives from the Warden. Bellamy was instrumental to that end.”

“But why torture him?” Clarke demands. 

“I needed him to break. Psychological manipulation may not be pretty, but it served its purpose. McCreary and Dotolo never physically harmed Bellamy, and he willingly joined us when we gave him the choice. Since then, he’s been treated with respect, as one of our own. He knows I value his leadership abilities, and his loyalty in turn inspires the others’ loyalty. Every one of your friends is happy, thriving even.”

“And what if I went and asked Bellamy right now if he was happy? You think he’d say yes?”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Charmaine asks almost lazily. 

“Just an honest question.”

“Clarke, you are not in a position to threaten me,” Charmaine laughs. “You see where you are? You have, what? Rifles? A few knives? A daughter? I have five hundred men and women with a ship full of weapons. And moreover, I have Bellamy. Grow up, child.”

“Whatever loyalty you think you have from Bellamy, it’s not real,” Clarke warns Charmaine. “His loyalty can’t be bought and sold. Let alone coerced.”

“You are naive. Loyalty is loyalty, no matter the means through which it’s obtained. He made that very clear at the council meeting. I hope you valued it while it was yours.” She looks down once more at her book. “Is there anything else you feel like debating ad nauseum? Or are you kindly ready to get the fuck out of my tent?”

“I don’t think you’re as certain as you sound, otherwise you wouldn’t have sent the landing party to kill me.”

Charmaine closes her eyes, murmurs something in a language Clarke doesn’t recognize. “Yes, I did send it to get rid of you.” She’s exasperated, her tight laced facade cracking. “Your death would have made things much neater, but do you know? Bellamy has not even once mentioned you to me. Now, I simply wish they had killed you as you appear to be the human embodiment of a horse fly.”

“So what now? When are you planning on torturing me into submission?”

“I have no need to,” Charmaine says. “Your weak points are obvious: to which I will happily start to apply pressure if you do not get out of my tent. Now.”

Clarke goes. She steps into the sunlight again, and the man next to the tent looks up dourly at her.

“Still alive,” he spits in the dirt. “Worse luck for it.”

“I used to think so,” Clarke agrees, off hand. “You’re a shit excuse for a guard.”

“I’m no guard.”

“Probably a wise career move.”

She leaves the man muttering to himself as she cuts back through camp, her job done much sooner than she expect. Not a hundred paces later, she feels a cold chill prickle at the back of her neck. She looks up and sees McCreary watching her from across the bustle of Eligius around them. He smiles at her, flashes her a thumbs up and disappears. The sinking feeling in Clarke’s stomach isn’t enough to mute her quiet triumph. 

She makes it to a secluded spot around the corner of one of the unattended Crabs and pulls the holoboard from inside her jacket. It’s still recording and she quickly stops it. When she starts it from the beginning, Charmaine’s cold voice comes through loud and clear: she has what she needs.

~~ ~~

Madi is playing tic-tac-toe with Zeke when Clarke rejoins her in Raven’s shop. Zeke’s giving her an old, sports-announcer style of running commentary that Clarke vaguely remembers from old soccer games she watched with her dad. Madi is giggling helplessly as she draws a circle in the upper right hand corner. 

Clarke smoothes a hand over her hair but doesn’t distract her from her game. “You good here?” She asks Raven’s legs where they stick out from ‘07’s large, disconnected Intercooler.

Raven rolls out and flashes her an a-ok sign. “You picking up Madi? Do me a favor and take Zeke with you.”

“Yeah, please take Zeke with you,” Zeke says, cutting off mid stream in his commentary. “Raven’s destroying my engine and won’t hear sense.”

“I told you, it’s practically junk.”

“‘Practically’ isn’t totally-”

“Don’t think I won’t have you forcibly removed,” Raven warns, but she’s smiling. “Anyway, Madi was great. She’s welcome to stay the rest of the day if you want.”

“That’s kind, but I need Madi to come hunting with me,” Clarke says, crinkling her eyes at her charge. “She’s the best hunter I know.”

Madi hops down from where she was perched, ignoring Zeke’s offered hand for help. “One time, Clarke and I killed a wild boar,” she says, gravely serious and proud. “We hung it’s teeth up over the-” Madi cuts herself off abruptly and shoots Clarke a terrified look. She’d almost said fireplace, and the fear of revealing their secret is stark on her face.

“Up over the Rover?” Clarke offers gently, rubbing Madi’s arm in comfort. 

“Yeah. The Rover,” Madi says.

“You’ll have to show me some time,” Zeke says jovially, the near slip up not even registering with him.

“Ok,” Madi says but she tucks her face into Clarke’s side and Clarke rubs her back soothingly. 

“Should we go get ready to hunt with Echo, _ai stik gona?_ ” Madi nods against her, and peeks up at Clarke. Clarke kisses her forehead- Madi’s more stressed about her slip up than Clarke wants her to be. The emotional toll of the last few days hovers right under the surface. 

“I’ll walk you out,” Zeke says. “Clearly I can tell when I’m unwanted.” He salutes Raven jauntily all the same and strolls with his hands in his pockets out of the Crab. He accompanies Clarke and Madi to edge of camp where the trail starts up to the overlook. He’s friendly and doesn’t ask any pressing questions, and Clarke wants to like him. He reminds her of Finn in some ways, cocky but sweet, but the cold horror of what Eligius did to Bellamy is still too fresh for her to be able to offer Zeke more than a cool smile. 

“Say hello to Echo for me,” Zeke says, waving Clarke and Madi up the trail. “I’d much rather be hunting than on construction.”

Clarke gives him a thin lipped smile and then races Madi up the incline so that they’re both out of breath by the time the reach the top. Clarke gets Madi to laugh again as they equip themselves with the short spears and knives that they use to hunt, and Madi is dabbing black paint onto her face when Echo joins them. 

Clarke lets Echo say hello to Madi and agree to let her also paint her face for the hunt, before Clarke meets Echo’s eyes and lifts her chin towards the Rover. “Here,” she says softly as Echo joins her, offering her the holoboard from her pocket. 

Echo accepts it with two hands, eyebrow lifted at the black screen. “What is this?”

“Proof,” Clarke says, reaching across her to tap the screen to turn it on. “I wanted you to see this.”

Echo swipes through the files for a moment, and pauses on the file of observation before she scrolls past it quickly. She listens to fragments of what Charmaine had said, low enough that Madi, still absorbed in her face painting can’t hear. She stops it abruptly and hands the tablet back to Clarke.

“What do the others think?”

“I haven’t shown them yet. I thought you should be the first.”

Echo’s expression does something funny- a flicker in the mask that’s always been so stoically in place. She hands the holoboard back to Clarke. “What’s your plan then?”

“I thought you could show it to Bellamy. Let him listen to what Charmaine says. Let him know we’re on his side, that it’s ok-”

“I think it should just be you,” Echo says quietly.

“What?”

“I don’t think I should be there.”

“Echo, every time I’ve tried to talk to him, he shuts me out. He might hear it better from you.”

“Clarke, in the past four years, any time one of spacekru mentioned your name, Bellamy checked out. This-” She gestures at the holoboard in Clarke’s hands. “Isn’t something he wants to face, not with us. Not even with me.”

She’s quiet for a moment and her eyes drift to where Madi is finishing her hunt paint. 

“This might change things,” Clarke tells her softly. 

“‘Might’. Even you have doubts, Wanheda.”

“Can you just call me Clarke?”

Echo looks at her in surprise and then nods. “Clarke,” she assents. “I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“I know. And you’re right, I don’t know if it will work, but we have to try.”

Echo considers her quietly. “Perhaps. But I still think if there’s anyone who might be able to reach him, it will be you. An audience will only hinder that.”

“But-”

“You said that I knew him better,” Echo says, short and impatient. “So trust me when I tell you this is the best way forward.”

Clarke starts to protest again, but then she catches Echo’s expression, hardly changed, but there’s something mournful in her large, dark eyes. This isn’t easy for her, Clarke realizes. She’s kept Bellamy’s trauma a secret– a secret to her that meant the difference between life and death. To let Clarke close now must be going against all her instincts of loyalty and pride, but Clarke can see the fatigue in her eyes, the quiet hope. Echo wants to put an end this, that which has held her and Bellamy captive for so long.

Clarke reaches out and clasps Echo’s shoulder. “Ok, of course. I’ll do it.”

Echo gives her a quick, half nod. They don’t speak again until they’re in the woods, all three of them with dark hunting paint marking their faces. Madi’s given Echo artistic swirls down her cheek bones, and Clarke has dots down her nose. It’s as Madi scampers ahead, scaling a tree to try to catch sight of what she thinks might be a stag that Echo turns to look at Clarke again. “And thank you,” she breathes. 

But when Clarke opens her mouth to reply, Echo’s already moved on, deeper into the shadows and the wild wooded grove.

~~ ~~

Madi’s asleep when Clarke makes her way back down the path. 

It’s late, so much so that the majority of Eligius has abandoned their low burning fires and gone to bed. “Charmaine put him on a late shift,” Echo had murmured, staring at the fire by the Rover, one hand twisting within the clasp of the other. “He’ll be alone.”

“You sure this is a good idea for me to go alone?”

“Good? No. Best?” Echo trailed off and pressed her lips together. “I hope so.”

“Comforting,” Clarke said dryly, but it was mostly to hide her own anxiety. It had to work, it would work. Because if it didn’t... Clarke puts the thought out of her mind as she reaches the camp and turns left. Catching him on his way home to his tent seems a better option than surprising him in the quiet confines of that intimate space. She remembers just how well the last time she confronted Bellamy in Octavia’s living quarters went.

From what she can tell, the patrols that walk the camp are meant more to guard the Eligius crew from each other rather than any outside threat. So far the crew seems to be mostly at peace with each other, but Clarke has sensed some of the tensions that brew– a snapped remark here, a stark silence when there should be laughter there– and she doesn’t doubt that as the days drag on, the unity with which the crew has worked will begin to wear thin. 

With the fires burning low now, however, the patrols are winding down, and Clarke catches only a few dark figures still winding their ways through lean-tos, tents, and bodies stretched out in the open by fires. She doesn’t see Bellamy for a while from her vantage point, crouched by an abandoned fire, and she wonders, briefly, if she’s missed him for the night. But then, just as she’s about to give up and go back up to the overlook, she catches sight of him. He’s trudging through the camp, rifle shouldered, head bowed. He looks tired, Clarke thinks as she studies him for a moment, worn down. She thinks of what Echo told her, about Bellamy being afraid to sleep– she wonders when Bellamy last got a full, night’s rest of deep sleep. 

Clarke stands as Bellamy gets closer, dusting her hands on off on her hips. Her movement catches Bellamy’s attention and his head whips up. Lit in the flickering firelight, Clarke lifts her hands in a peaceable gesture and Bellamy slows, stops maybe ten feet from her. She tries not to miss how close he used to stand next to her, how at one point, a time that feels more real than whatever this is, she and Bellamy knew a different kind of space, a different kind of proximity.

“Hey,” she says softly, careful to keep her voice pitched low and soft, careful not to say his name. “Can we talk?”

Bellamy crosses his arms, the line of his jaw set. His beard hides whether or not his jaw ticks. “You don’t quit, do you?”

“No,” Clarke says with a grim smile. “Not easily.” 

“Alright. Might as well get this over with. What is it that you want?”

“You really don’t know me?” It’s not what she means to say, but just as painful as it must be for Bellamy to hear her voice, this strained, gruff rejection of everything that was ever between them leaves Clarke spiraling.

“I know who you want me to think you are,” Bellamy says evenly. “But she’s long gone.”

“Hey, ok, don’t worry about that right now,” Clarke manages, keeping her voice even. “I’m not trying to convince you I’m anyone, ok?”

Bellamy squints at her, the way he’s been doing since he’s gotten back, like he doesn’t trust his eyes or himself. Clarke doesn’t rush him. “Fine,” Bellamy says at last. “What do you want then?”

“I know,” Clarke says, her voice trembling enough that she has to stop and take a breath. She doesn’t want to risk anything that might remind Bellamy too much of her transmissions. She needs to keep her voice even and low, keep it from getting too close to the desperation the radio caught in her first two months. “I know what they did to you.”

“Did to me?” Bellamy repeats.”Who?”

“Eligius. Charmaine. McCreary and Dotolo. When you were first picked up off of Go-Sci.”

“No one did shit to me,” Bellamy says, but there’s an edge to his voice, sharp and dangerous, and Clarke knows she should take it as a warning.

“Ok,” Clarke says, changing tracks. “Then you tell me what happened when they first brought you and the others on?”

“Solitary,” Bellamy says, repeating the line everyone else has given her. 

“And in solitary,” Clarke says gently. “They made you listen to something, right?”

Bellamy rolls his shoulders, expression hardening. “Listen, I don’t know what you think you’re trying to prove, but I’m losing patience. We done yet?”

“They played you radio transmissions from- from Earth.” Clarke says, taking a more direct approach. “They made you listen to them on repeat.”

Whatever reaction she was expecting from Bellamy– further denial, shock, anger– he surprises her again. “So?”

His brief acceptance and dismissal of it throws Clarke off guard. “Bellamy, they _tortured_ you.”

Bellamy’s eyes flicker, distant for a moment, and then he’s right back, face darkening. He closes the distance between them, not all the way, but close enough that it’s only the fire that separates them. “Listen to me,” he warns her. “Whatever you’re trying to prove, you’re wrong. Nothing they did compromised me.”

“I have the footage,” Clarke insists, reaching for the holoboard. “I recorded Charmaine-” Bellamy arrests her reach with a vice like grip on her wrist. He doesn’t quite hurt her, but the grip is strong enough to bruise if she resists it. 

“They gave me a chance to think about my priorities,” Bellamy says, like it’s something he’s said a thousand times. “I spent six months on Earth, you know how short that is? Nothing I gave up wasn’t something I couldn’t part with. But I’ve made every choice of my goddamn own free will. You got that?”

Clarke stares at him. He’s looking at her, really studying her for the first time and his eyes are strikingly clear. This is Bellamy that she’s talking to. Clarke lets her arm go limp in his grasp and Bellamy immediately lets her go, hand flexing like he’s trying to forget the feeling of her skin under his palm. 

“No one would blame you if you hadn’t,” Clarke says softly. “I’m here for you, if you need me.”

And there, just for a second, she thinks she might almost reach him. But then Bellamy sneers at her, a look she hasn’t seen on his face since she first met him, so many years ago. “I’ve grown up,” he tells her. “You should do the same.”

It’s the closest he’s gotten to recognizing her, but Clarke doesn’t think he realizes he has, nor can she point it out to him, because it stirs something in her own memory. 

_Who we are, and who we need to be to survive, are two very different things._ He’d meant it as comfort once, and Clarke had accepted it, been grateful for his unspoken offer of forgiveness, of seeing who she was. But the memory twists Clarke’s stomach now. The granular image of Bellamy on the monitor, huddled, braced, _surviving_ , makes Clarke nauseous anew. 

To survive what had been done to him, Bellamy’d had to kill her. He’d had to accept her death, and more than that, to live with himself, he’d had to turn it into something that had no meaning. Clarke had given her life for her friends, and Bellamy had given up her memory and their connection to keep his promise to her. She realizes, dizzily, that what she’s asking of him now must be antithetical to everything he’s done to survive. To remember her, to acknowledge what had been done to him, is asking him to undo everything of which he’d had to viciously and mercinarily convince himself. 

It’s asking him to be someone he never was.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. 

Bellamy narrows his eyes at her. “We done now?”

“We’re done,” Clarke manages, fighting back her tears. Bellamy doesn’t need to hear or see her cry again. 

“We going to have to do this again?”

“No,” Clarke promises. “Not this.”

“Good.” Bellamy says, and steps back and away from her. “Curfew’s ending soon. Get back up to your kid.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything. She just looks down at their feet, her’s clad in doeskin, his in thick military boots. She feels Bellamy study her for a moment, maybe even start to say something else, but then he thinks better of it, and she watches his boots turn and leave her. 

She counts to ten, manages two deep breaths, and then lets her legs give out and drops down, burying her sob in her arms, curled in on herself. It’s ugly, uncontrollable- Clarke’s body convulses with how her grief wracks her body. She feels like she’s going to shake apart. Someone in a nearby tent swears at her, and she stumbles to her feet. She can’t do this here. She needs to get back to Madi, she needs to give Echo a break- Echo who most likely will be awake half the night with Bellamy soothing him from whatever new nightmares Clarke’s just given him to contend with.

Echo knows the moment she sees her. Clarke doesn’t miss the way a quiet, restrained hope flickers out on her regal face. 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke tells her. “I tried- I-”

To her surprise, Echo hugs her. It’s a brief, awkward thing, stilted, but a hug all the same. “Don’t blame yourself,” Echo tells her. “The world has never been kind enough for it to have worked.”

Clarke tries to be silent as she crawls into bed with Madi, but the slim control she had regained to get back up to the overlook slips away in the dark again, Bellamy’s ghost a flicker in the front seat.

In some different reality, Clarke thinks as she gasps to regain herself control, some windstorm hadn’t blown the satellite out of alignment. In that reality, she made it back to the rocket, and reached Go-Sci with her friends. In that reality, the long, painful recovery she’d suffered on Earth, both physically and emotionally, could have taken place surrounded by her friends, and maybe, that quiet, rich question between her and Bellamy could finally have had an answer. 

She feels so stupid: the quiet hopes she’d had of a life beyond survival, once Bellamy and the others had come home, rise up in her mind and taunt her- flickering images of _what ifs_ and _maybe somedays_ snuffed out and crumbling faster than she can catch and cling to them.

“Clarke?” Madi whispers in the darkness. “What’s wrong?”

Clarke wipes the tears from her face hastily. “Nothing, Madi. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

She feels Madi sit up and scooch over next to her so that when Clarke opens her eyes, the little girl is hovering above her. 

“Can I cuddle you?” Madi asks and Clarke nods, opens her arms to her so that Madi can tuck herself into Clarke’s body. She wraps her arms around Clarke’s back and squeezes her tight, her hands petting soothingly at Clarke’s shoulders. “It’s ok,” Madi tells her softly as Clarke takes a shuddering breath. “Everything is going to be ok, Clarke.”

“Promise?” Clarke whispers.

“ _Gyon skaifaya au an komba raun nodotaim._ ”

“I love you,” Clarke whispers fiercely. “Go back to sleep ok? I’m ok.”

“Love you too.” Madi lets Clarke tuck her head under her chin so Clarke can keep her cuddled close as she drifts back to sleep.

In whatever reality that Clarke made it to Go-Sci, Madi would have died alone on Earth long before she and Bellamy and the others made it back down again. Life without Madi is unthinkable, unbearable– something Clarke can’t even begin to let herself imagine. She takes a steadying breath. And another. 

And another. 

And another.

She keeps breathing.

~~ ~~

Clarke doesn’t remember her dreams, but when she wakes up, Madi is sitting on the tailgate of the Rover, humming softly as she eats. Next to her, Clarke finds a bowl of cooling oatmeal.

“Is this for me?” Clarke asks. 

Madi looks up at her and nods, smiling. “I even added blueberries.”

“Madi, you know those are just for special occasions.”

“They’re to make you feel better,” Madi tells her, and pats Clarke’s shoulder. “That’s a special occasion too.” 

Clarke is overcome, for a moment, by her daughter’s soft, unwavering kindness. She tucks Madi’s hair behind her ear affectionately, and notices with some guilt the smudges of dirt on her face. It’s been days since she and Madi have been able to bathe and Clarke closes her eyes as she takes a bite of the sweet, hot oatmeal.

“Hey, you want to go swimming today?”

“Really?” Madi asks. “Do you have to take a work shift?”

“Honestly, fuck it,” Clarke says and then laughs at Madi’s wide eyes. 

“Can I say that?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

“Fuck it,” Madi says, and then grins mischievously at Clarke. 

They pack up the Rover and Clarke backs it up and turns it into the woods without telling anyone in the Eligius crew where she’s going. She and Madi follow the winding river toward the lake, yet undiscovered by Eligius. There, they strip down and jump from the high rocks into the deep, clear water. Madi is like a little fish, a natural swimmer. She taught Clarke to swim so many years ago, but Clarke still sometimes struggles to keep up with her. 

While Madi paddles around, Clarke dives deep, letting the cool water soothe her lingering headache from her tears the night before. She opens her eyes underwater and watches the way the sun beams bend and shimmer through the water. A small salamander paddles under a rock, Madi’s legs create bubbles that fuzz and disperse through the water. When she looks at her hands in the water, they glow. 

Nothing’s killed her yet, not her father’s death, or being sent to an irradiated planet; not killing hundreds of people, or sacrificing nearly everything to keep her friends as safe as she could. Primefaya cleansed her, forged her anew of a different mettle- something stronger, tougher, but just as vibrant. Clarke resurfaces with a gasp and laughs as Madi splashes her. When she sucks down the summer air, she can feel the strength of her lungs, the strength of her body that keeps her afloat in the water. 

She and Madi pull themselves to shore, clean and bodies happily tired after racing each other to a large rock that creates a shallow shelf halfway out in the lake. Clarke brushes out Madi’s hair and spreads it out to dry thoroughly on the sun-warmed rocks. She props herself up, watches the breeze play in the tops of the thin pines. Nothing’s killed her yet, no matter how painful it was.

When she was eighteen, Bellamy had become her everything, and it had been constantly used against her– by ALIE, by Roan, and even by Bellamy himself. She remembers the fierce loyalty between them, the anxiety that crawled up her arms and curled in her stomach when he had been gone too long: when he went dark all too often on scouting, hunting and infiltration missions. 

But she wasn’t that girl anymore, hadn’t been in a long time since she’d given her life for him. She couldn’t lose herself to that anymore, not if she had meant what she promised Madi. Bellamy and Clarke, the boy and girl they had once been, had passed on with the Earth in Primefaya. There’d be a part of her that would always love Bellamy, would always want what was best for him, but she couldn’t save him. Not this time. 

Their people, however, she still could. Her mom, Kane, Octavia, the others. She could bear that responsibility for the both of them.

Clarke closes her eyes and, slowly, begins to work out a plan 

 

––

 _Ai niron_ : My loved one

 _Gyon skaifaya au an komba raun nodotaim:_ To the stars and back again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always so so greatly appreciated.


	5. Day 2,204 to  Day 2,216

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, for the amazing and incredible comments and reviews on this story! Seriously, y'all are my life's blood for this fic. 
> 
> One thing I did want to address was that regardless of what you think of me or this fic, please don't refer to people with PTSD or any trauma-induced (or general!) mental disorder as "useless". That's abelist and gross, and there's never a need for that. 
> 
> As always, thank you to my writing coven and to the people who squeal with me about this on the regular. It means a whole lot to me.
> 
> *Warning*: There is some brief, physical violence against a child in this chapter.

“Clarke?” Madi asks, cutting through the lazy drone of bugs and the soft peeping of the frogs around the lake. It’ll be getting dark soon- they’ve spent the better part of the day here, and Clarke knows that she needs to head back to the Eligius camp soon if she wants to avoid too much suspicion. Still, lingering a little longer under the sun, in this quiet place that doesn’t have to hold heartbreak and disappointment and deep, unnerving change makes it hard to reckon with that fact.

Clarke rolls her head towards Madi with a hum but doesn’t open her eyes. Madi’s been padding around, playing with minnows in the shallows, scaling trees to find early acorns and building a small teepee which she’d made Clarke come admire when she’d finished. Clarke hears the soft rasp of pages turning and knows Madi’s gone to get her sketchbook. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Are you and Bellamy in a fight?”

Clarke does open her eyes at that, shading them so she can see Madi’s face without the glare of the sun. Madi is pouring over one of the pictures of Bellamy- an early memory of him with a not-quite-there smile. Clarke can’t look too hard at the picture. “Why would you think that?” she asks instead of answering.

“Because everyone else talks about you and has come to see us. But Bellamy hasn’t. Is it because he’s mad at you? Or you’re mad at him?”

“No,” Clarke sighs pushing herself up on her elbows and looking out across the lake. It’s lit in late afternoon orange glow, dragonflies zipping here and there to feed on the tiny bugs that swarm just above the water’s surface. Earth is so beautiful, it till takes Clarke’s breath away. “No,” she repeats. “We’re not in a fight.”

“Then will he come soon?”

Clarke sits up fully and reaches out take the sketch book from Madi. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Clarke hesitates, not sure the best way to explain this to Madi without frightening her. She’s promised herself that she’ll never lie to Madi, not even about the hard things, but they still need to be around Eligius if Clarke’s plan to free the bunker is going to work, and she thinks the full truth would only be detrimental to that cause. “Because Bellamy doesn’t want to remember me right now,” she tries.

Madi makes a thoroughly disbelieving sound. “But that’s so stupid. He’s your best friend. Didn’t he miss you?”

“Yes, I think he did,” Clarke says quietly. “And don’t call people stupid.”

“I’m not calling _him_ stupid, just that what he’s _doing_ is stupid.” Madi says, sounding indignant. 

“Madi,” Clarke says gently. “I don’t want you to think that. You know how sometimes it’s really painful to think about your parents or your little brother? Even though you miss them a lot?”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Madi grumbles.

“I think it’s the same for Bellamy. It’s easier right now for him to think I’m dead, than to know that I’m alive. He was convinced that I died and built his new life around that. He still is the same person- he still cares a lot about his friends. He just had to forget in order to do that. I don’t blame him, really, I don’t.”

“So who does he think you are?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke says with a shrug. “Maybe he thinks that I’m like you- someone with nightblood who survived Primefaya.”

“But all the other nightbloods-”

“I know, Madi. But sometimes facts don’t always work because of the way we need to think about things. I’m ok, really.”

Madi gives her a knowing look. “You weren’t ok last night.”

“Yeah, ok. I wasn’t last night. But I am now. I guess it’s just part of growing up- I’m still learning to accept things that are hard.”

Madi is quiet for a moment and then she stands up and hugs Clarke around the shoulders. “I would never forget you,” she says fiercely.

“Yeah, well, you’re also my kid. You’d be in serious trouble if you did,” Clarke teases her. “Listen, I don’t want you to feel like you need to be mad at Bellamy for me, ok? I’m not mad at him, and you don’t need to be out of loyalty to me.”

“Ok,” Madi says, sitting back down next to Clarke, but she looks dejected.

“Was that…? I’m sorry, Madi. Should I not have told you?”

“No, it’s ok. It’s just that, in all your stories, Bellamy seemed so great. I wanted a chance to be friends with him too.”

“I know,” Clarke says gently. “And he is great, still. I believe that. And if you have a chance to be friends with him, I want you to be. That would make me really happy.”

“But if he doesn’t want to remember you, then will he even like me?”

“Hmm,” Clarke says, leaning back on her elbows and looking up at the sky again. “I think that if he’s still anything like he used to be, he’d be honored to be your friend. Maybe Echo can spend some time with you and him, it might be easier if I’m not there. How about that?”

“Really?” Madi asks, cautiously hopeful. 

“Yeah, really,” Clarke says reaching out to squeeze Madi’s foot. “I always thought you two would get along. And I would worry about him less, if I knew he and you were friends.”

“Well, I can try,” Madi says magnanimously, but she looks pleased and excited and Clarke gently suppresses the threatening flare of heartache she feels about _what ifs_ and _could-have-beens_ and focuses on Madi’s smile. 

“You want to head back and get some dinner?”

“Yes!” 

“Alright, come on.” Clarke pulls on her leggings and black tank, drops down to her knees to help Madi fight the slim foothole over her ankle. 

“You know I can do that on my own,” Madi reminds her and Clarke grins up at her. “But it’s ok if you do it today.”

“Shucks,” Clarke laughs, but she takes it. It’s reassuring to be able to still help Madi with little things like this sometimes. And now, they’re both clean and refreshed and Madi looks happier than she has in days. 

“Hey, listen,” Clarke says as they hop into the Rover. “You and I have another secret job to do, ok?”

“Like spies?” Madi asks, eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, like spies. We’re going to dig out the bunker. And we’re going to need Raven and Monty and the other’s help to do that. I want you to know because wanted to be in the know, right?”

Madi nods gravely next to her. “So what’s my job?”

“I need you to be my eyes and ears when I’m not around. Can you do that?”

“Of course. What else can I do?”

“I also need you not to worry. We already stick out because we’re from the ground, but we have to pretend like that doesn’t bother us. Can you do that?” Clarke asks. 

“Yes.” Madi’s determined in her little nod. 

“But you also have to promise me that if you ever get scared or want to stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I won’t get scared,” Madi says and Clarke’s watching the winding, twisting wheel tracks ahead but she can hear the roll of Madi’s eyes in her scoff.

“Everyone gets scared sometimes. We can even have a codeword, ok? Just so that you and I know.”

“Fine,” Madi says on a sigh. “What’s our codeword?”

“What do you want it to be? Something easy to remember, but not something you say too often.”

Madi hums thoughtfully as she twists her hair up into a braided bun on her head. “What about ‘anise’?”

Clarke snorts. “Is that because I know you’ll never ask me for any of our seeds?”

“Yes, because it tastes gross,” Madi says, wrinkling her nose. “Just like being afraid.”

“Alright, but you know it’s _ok_ to be afraid, right?”

“I know, I know, Clarke,” Madi sighs. “You tell me that all the time.”

“Maybe one day you’ll believe me,” Clarke laughs. “Ok. ‘Anise’ it is.”

~~ ~~

They get back to the Eligius camp as dusk starts to thoroughly settle. The mountains are cast in purple and the night bugs are warming up as birds call out their last trills of the evening. There’s just the earliest hint of chill in the air. Not enough to raise goosebumps yet, but Clarke can taste it in the air, a lessening of the deep humidity. 

She and Madi wind their way down the path from the overlook to where the crew is lining up in the MessCrab, a deep, rich scent of roasted meat in the air. Clarke feels her stomach rumble as she steers Madi into line with her. Raven’s a few people ahead and gives Clarke a friendly half wave, and even further ahead Clarke can see Harper and Monty just behind McrCreary and a white haired man. She’s not thinking about much of anything when the tall, blond councilmember, the one who had initially been in charge of hunting parties walks past her. It’s only thanks to the senses she’s honed over the last six years that she whips her hand out of the way and places herself bodily between him and Madi when he lunges at them.

“Hey!” Clarke snarls, going for her knife in her belt. “Don’t touch me.”

“No, no food for you tonight,” he snaps at them, plunging again to grab Clarke’s arm. “You missed your work detail.”

“Half of the food you have is here because I brought it in,” Clarke counters, deftly twisting her hand out of the pudgy-fingered grasp. 

“You don’t work for the day, you don’t eat for the day. Those are the rules.” He tries once more to grab Clarke’s arm and haul her out of line but Madi springs from behind Clarke and sinks her teeth into the man’s wrist.

“Madi, no!” Clarke gasps, but it’s too late.

“What the _fuck_ -” The man swears, stumbling back. He cuffs Madi over the head and sends her sprawling. 

“Hey! Gordon!” Raven shouts, but Clarke’s already leapt after him, caught his wrist and flipped him mercilessly onto the ground. She jams her knee into his shoulder and pulls his arm across her leg, pinning him. There’s a sardonic cheer around her, a murmur and ripple of voices growing but Clarke can hardly hear it over pounding of blood in her ears.

“Don’t you _dare_ hit her,” Clarke seethes. “Do you hear me? You touch her again and I’ll kill you.”

“Let go of me, you fucking bitch-” Clarke twists his wrist further and Gordon hisses in pain.

“Clarke,” Raven says, appearing by her side. Harper and Monty and just behind her, and Clarke is vaguely aware of Harper bodily blocking someone from getting any closer to them.

“Is Madi ok?” Clarke asks her, not letting up on the wrist and shoulder lock she’s got Gordon in.

“She’s right here, she’s ok,” Raven assures her softly. “You need to let him go.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Gordon spits up at her. “I’m going to kill you and that brat of yours.”

“Clarke-”

“Hey! What’s going on?” Clarke looks up as Bellamy shoves his way roughly through the crowd that’s closed ranks around them, penning them in. He takes the scene in a moment and then swears under his breath. 

“Both of you on your feet. Now.”

Clarke glares at Bellamy and then leaps lightly up and away from Gordon who makes an undignified sound as the pressure relieves on his shoulder. The man gets heavily to his feet, pale blue eyes piercing as he considers Clarke, but her only concern is Madi. The little girl is back on her feet, calm as anything, but there’s blood on her mouth.

“Madi,” she says, dropping to a crouch in front of her charge. “ _Yu ste laksen?”_

 _“_ No. I’m ok,” Madi says and wipes her mouth. Clarke realizes that most of the blood is Gordon’s, but Madi’s got a red welt forming across her cheek and Clarke’s stomach churns.

“What happened?” Bellamy asks Raven. Clarkes realizes he must be on duty, the way the crowd around them melts back, leaving just her, Madi, Gordon and Raven in front of him, Monty and Harper lingering just off to the side.

“He threatened us,” Madi pipes up before Raven can answer. “So I bit him.”

Bellamy’s eyes drop to Madi and Clarke watches him take in her bruising face, the hard set of her jaw. “He hit you?” He asks her.

Madi nods. 

“Did you really hit a little girl?” Bellamy asks, turning on Gordon, and there’s a dark, bitter disdain to his tone. 

“They were trying to steal food. The girl-”

“You know the Captain has outlawed violence on the ground. You’re a member of the council, Lieutenant Gordon. Everyone looks to you to set an example, and you’re fighting a child?”

“Like I said,” Gordon says, rolling his shoulders and spitting on the ground. “They were trying to steal food. That bitch didn’t show up for her shift today.” He points bluntly at Clarke and Bellamy follows his finger and considers her quietly.

“You’re not on duty, Gordon. You should have alerted me or someone else if you thought she was trying to get extra rations. It’s not your job to be working security.”

“But-”

“I’m bringing this up in the next Council meeting,” Bellamy says, dangerously quiet. “But if I hear you’re starting any sort of fight before then, especially with a kid, you’ll have bigger issues. You got that?”

Gordon bristles. “You think you can just-”

“What?” Bellamy snaps, suddenly dangerous, turning fully toward Gordon. He’s not as tall as the other man, but there’s a cold, powerful danger to him and Gordon takes a half step back. 

“Nothing.” Gordon spits again pointedly in the direction of Madi and Clarke, then turns and stalks away. Bellamy turns back to them and doesn’t look at Clarke, but his eyes drop to Madi.

“You okay?” he asks her.

Madi lifts a half shoulder in a shrug. Bellamy crouches down and cocks his head at her. “Can I see where he hit you?”

Madi turns her face so Bellamy can see the red blush of Gordon’s knuckles. It won’t be too bad, Clarke thinks, as she studies it- it was a glancing blow- but she sees the roil of anger she feels at the mark reflected in Bellamy’s darkening gaze. Bellamy shakes his head. 

“Am I going to get in trouble?” Madi asks. 

“Huh?”

“I bit him. But he was threatening us.”

Bellamy’s face does something funny, and Clarke realizes he might be repressing a smile. “No, you’re good. It sounds like he provoked you. Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Madi says with a serious nod. “He said we couldn’t eat.”

“Well that’s bullshit,” Bellamy says before he can catch himself and something like guilt crosses his face. “This is the ground, everyone gets to eat here.”

“Really? Clarke too?”

Bellamy’s eyes flicker and he closes them briefly, but he gives her a short nod. “Yeah, even your mom. Part of her work counts as looking after you.” He glances up at Clarke as he stands up and gives her a brief nod. “If anyone gives you any hassle, you can refer them to me.”

“Thanks,” Clarke says quietly. She half turns to join Raven, her hand on Madi’s shoulder, but Madi lingers.

“You should eat with us,” she says to Bellamy. “And everyone else.”

“He’s working, Madi,” Clarke tells her gently. “He has to patrol.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Bellamy says a little gruffly, like he’s surprised by the offer. “Maybe another time.”

They’re quieter around the fire that night. Raven looks a little stunned, face dark as she picks at her food and watches the flames. “Hey,” Clarke murmurs to her under the cover to Madi chirping something to Emori and Echo. “Can we find a time to talk. In private?”

“Sure,” Raven says, shaking herself a little. “I can come up to the overlook tonight. Or-”

“That works,” Clarke says. “But maybe wait until after Madi’s gone to sleep.” 

Raven nods, slow and serious, and then scrapes the rest of her food into Murphy’s bowl. “I’m done,” she says when he frowns at her. “You eat the rest.”

“You know I appreciate your attempts to fatten me up,” Murphy says, rubbing Raven’s kneecap under his palm. “But this seems a little extreme.”

“I just need more padding on my pillow,” Raven says fondly and ruffles his short hair. 

~~ ~~

Clarke makes a cold compress and holds it to Madi’s cheek when they return to the Overlook that night. Madi winces a little under her attentions, but is otherwise docile. 

“That hurt?” Clarke asks quietly, stroking Madi’s hair.

“Only a little. It’s ok,” Madi promises. She leans into Clarke’s side out of habit while they sip their sweet tea, a ritual they haven’t had time to indulge in before bed in the last week. 

“You’re so brave,” Clarke tells her. “Emori’s right, you are a _pakstoka_. But I don’t want you putting yourself in harm’s way for me.”

“Sorry, we’re _seingeda_. That means we look out for each other. And I wasn’t scared,” she adds quickly.

“Yes, but it also means that I get to protect you. And it means you promise me you keep yourself safe.”

“That seems unbalanced,” Madi accuses her, squinting up at her and Clarke laughs a little. 

“When you’re a little older, maybe we can renegotiate.” 

Clarke tucks Madi into bed and then putters around the small overlook, tidying up while Madi whispers her end of day messages to her lost family. Clarke joins her again once the fire is low and Madi is already starting to drift off, their long day in the sun and water catching up with her.

“Story?” She murmurs sleepily. 

“Hmm,” Clarke hums, looking out across the dark valley. Most her stories feel to fraught tonight, especially any that involve Bellamy as she works to distance him in her mind. He’s gone, she thinks quietly, and her hand aches for a radio. “Any in particular that you wanted?”

“You can choose.”

So Clarke tells Madi about the first time she met Niylah, and the curiosities and treasures the trading post held. How she had been tempted to stay for hours, sorting old boxes of family photo albums and random household objects that had traded hands and gained new values and purposes beyond what they’d initially held.

Clarke is quiet once Madi falls asleep. She resists the quiet, familiar call to wander down old paths of memory that hold her friends, her mom, Bellamy. She doesn’t want to lose those memories, but right now they can’t help her.

She quietly grabs the tablet of observation footage from its hiding place and closes the Rover door. She brews another pot of tea while she waits for Raven, but it doesn’t take long for her old friend to join her.

“Jesus, what a day,” Raven says, sinking down next to her and accepting a cup. She palms it between her hands and studies the rising steam.

“Long?” Clarke asks.

Raven shrugs. “Long. And… Clarke, I had no idea Gordon would hurt Madi. I had no idea he was going to hurt you. I should have stepped in sooner.”

“It’s good that you didn’t,” Clarke says quietly, leaning forward to brace herself on her knees and look at Raven. “Because I need you to help me.”

Raven looks at back at Clarke and there’s a gleam in her eye, mischievous. “Clarke Griffin,” Raven says shaking her head. “I get the sense that I’m not going to like whatever it is you’re about to say.”

“I don’t think you will either. But there are things you need to know.” She passes Raven the tablet and Raven turns it curiously in one hand.

“What’s this?”

“That’s what they did to Bellamy. That’s why he’s been so weird around me. And so weird for the last four years.”

Raven’s brow furrows. “They? You mean Eligius?” Clarke nods.

She has to get up when Raven starts to play some of the footage. Her own voice and Bellamy’s too much for her to listen to. She walks a broad circle around the fire and then rejoins Raven, taking away the tablet and turning it off. “It goes on a long time,” she says quietly.

“So you’re telling me,” Raven says slowly, pale in the golden firelight. “That Eligius had transmissions you sent, never told us, and what- forced Bellamy to listen to them?”

“Conditioned him to believe I was well and truly dead. Yes,” Clarke says quietly. Raven’s so quick, she’s put everything together without Clarke needing to walk her through it.

“Mother _fuckers_ ,” Raven swears, hurling her cup away from her. “Motherfucking asshole pre-apocalyptic, brainwashing troglodytes.”

“Raven, shh,” Clarke whispers. “You’re going to wake up Madi. And someone could hear you.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Raven snarls, but she sits back down next to Clarke and takes a slow breath. “I’m going to kill them.”

“You can’t, Raven, listen to me,” Clarke says, taking one of her hands. “Right now, if we want to survive, if we want to help the people in the bunker, they have to believe that you’re ok. That they still have your loyalty.”

“And what about Bellamy?” Raven asks. 

“I… I don’t know how to help him,” Clarke admits. “I don’t know if “helping” is even a thing he needs. He is where is, and forcing him to believe anything else doesn’t seem kind at this point. He’s been through enough. He’s done enough.”

Raven shakes her head but doesn’t argue. “How is it that this kind of shit keeps happening to us?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke says, her laugh kind of bitter. “But the only way out is through.”

“Yeah,” Raven says with a grimace. “So what do you want me to do?”

“I need you to rebuild ‘07.”

“Are you kidding me?” Raven snorts. “She’s junk.”

“ _Practically_ junk,” Clarke reminds her. “Come on, Raven, you’ve fixed bigger and more broken things before. And you have all the parts you need in the other Crabs.”

“Parts that are meant to build Rovers.”

“Are you saying you can’t do both?”

Raven opens her mouth to reply before she shoots Clarke a look. “I see what you’re trying to do.”

“Raven, we need a Crab to dig out the bunker. They can’t wait another year, and by then, all the Crabs will be broken down. We need one sooner than that. If you rebuild ‘07 and break down the rest, all we have to do is lift off, and then they won’t be able to stop us.”

“They have sonic guns and canons,” Raven says dryly.

“So equip us with some too. Come on, you saying this is harder than rewiring your own brain?”

Raven shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable, Clarke. You know it’s ridiculously hard to say no to you when you get something in your head?”

“I was kind of counting on it,” Clarke admits, bumping her shoulder into Raven’s and Raven laughs again. 

“God, this shouldn’t be funny. Nothing about this is funny. But ok. Let’s do it.”

There’s a relief that saturates Clarke, one that she hasn’t felt since she first saw Bellamy step out of the Eligius ship and she leans her weight into Raven more fully, tucking her face into her shoulder to hide the bubbling of tears that spring to her eyes. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Raven says, slinging an arm around Clarke’s shoulders. “I have no idea how long it’ll take, but we’ll get Monty on board, and the others, and we’ll get it done.”

They sit in companionable silence for a moment, Clarke trying to absorb as much of the rare affection from her friend as possible. “You want some more tea?” She asks as last and Raven looks guiltily in the direction she had chucked her cup in. “Don’t worry, we’ll find it tomorrow,” Clarke promises as she pours out a drink for Raven in a fresh cup.

“Thanks,” Raven says, taking a sip and humming at the rich, sweet flavor of it. 

“So,” Clarke says after another moment. “You and Emori… and Murphy?”

Instead of answering, Raven downs the rest of her tea cup and Clarke finds herself laughing. Raven’s right, nothing is really funny, but for the first time in a very long, long time, Clarke thinks she might feel, just for a moment, close to her actual age.

~~ ~~

It takes Raven about a week to assess the state of ‘07’s engine. “It’s going to be two months, maybe three before it’s ready to go,” she tells Clarke when Clarke swings by with Madi to join Raven for lunch after Clarke’s come back from a hunting detail with Echo. “Sorry I can’t make it sooner.”

“That’ll work,” Clarke says. “Better than a year.”

Clarke tries to fill her time with her head down and working. She knows that the best way to keep herself and Madi safe is by pulling her part of work details, but she mostly sticks to hunting parties rather than construction. After so long on her own, she prefers the quiet of the woods and, more often than not, Echo’s stalwart, cool company. 

Madi comes with her on some hunting trips, but she’s taken her role as Clarke’s eyes around camp very seriously, and likes to spend her time with the others too. She’s Harper’s shadow on the construction team as often as she can be found trailing Monty or Emori, or learning badgering stories about space walks out of Raven. She regails Clarke with stories of what she’s learned and seen everyday, little anecdotes about Clarke’s friends that are half informed by the stories she’s raised Madi with, and half of Madi’s own observations. Clarke listens just as attentively as Madi always did to her stories before they settle into their lessons for the day.

The stories are mostly the same, which is why Clarke isn’t expecting anything much different when Madi trots up to the overlook one afternoon for lunch, a little more confident navigating the camp by herself now, and plops herself excitedly down next to Clarke where she’s cooking a rabbit on the fire. 

“How was your morning with Raven?” Clarke asks her, passing her a cup of water.

“I spent it with Bellamy, actually,” Madi says. “He had the morning free.”

“Oh really?” Clarke asks, smiling a little in encouragement. She hadn’t seen Bellamy when he wasn’t on duty, and in all the ways she’s worked on not thinking about him in the last week or two, she’d wondered if he ever got a break. “What did you two do?”

“He showed me around camp. Most of it I knew, but he showed me the patrol he walks.”

Clarke smiles at her daughter. “He always did love his patrols. Did you have fun?”

“Yes,” Madi decides. “He’s kinda quiet and grumpy, but I think he likes me.”

“I’m sure he likes you,” Clarke says gently. “Did he tell you any good stories?”

“He said he didn’t have any when I asked,” Madi says. Clarke hums. Part of her wants to know more, ask more, but Madi is a little less forthcoming than she usually is, and Clarke thinks that for her need to keep this new Bellamy at a distance, it might be best if she doesn’t. They share the rabbit between them, and then Madi digs through the old novels that Clarke packed up from Becca’s lab, and Clarke gets out her whittling to listen when Madi practices her reading aloud. 

Madi doesn’t spend as much time with Bellamy as she does with Raven or the others, but over the next week, Clarke hears about him a little more. Usually Madi will spend only an hour or so with him, something brief and succinct in between her time with the others, but Bellamy always seems like he’s kind to her from her stories, and even shares half his portions at lunch one afternoon when he realizes that she likes venison stew, and Clarke is content to accept it. 

“He says she reminds him of Octavia,” Echo tells her on an early morning hunt. 

“She’s certainly strong willed,” Clarke laughs a little. “And gets her mind set on things. Do you think she- she triggers him at all? How are the nightmares?”

“The same, since we got to the ground. But I don’t think Madi plays a factor in that.”

“I’m trying to give him space,” Clarke says, a little helplessly. “I don’t want to make it worse.”

“At this point, I don’t think it’s you,” Echo admits quietly, stopping in the dappled light of a tree. “Bellamy’s wrestling with his own demons. He just can’t fight them when he’s awake.”

She doesn’t see the two interact until late in the week when she’s back from a late in the day hunting trip. She’s later than she means to be, having brought down a buck and rigged up a mshift sled of pine branches to drag its heavy weight back to camp, and the sun is down. She’s missed dinner, but with any luck, Raven will have dropped off some rations at the overlook, like she does when Clarke misses Mess. Clarke drops off the stag with one of the crew who’s working late on the smoke lodge, and even manages to give her a smile- a pretty, dark skinned girl, with curly hair and attractively broad shoulders for a woman. 

Raven doesn’t have Madi when Clarke joins them at their usual fire. “She wanted to bring Bellamy dinner,” Raven says with a small smile. “I think he just got off his shift.”

“Thanks,” Clarke says, heart sinking a little. She hadn’t lied to Madi when she’d told her that she wanted her and Bellamy to be friends, but seeing the two of them together, something she’d thought about in some of her more sentimental moments over the six years, feels a little too tender. Still, this isn’t something she can hide from forever. 

Bellamy’s lean-to isn’t too far from the path up to overlook, and Clarke takes her time. He’s built a small fire outside of his tent, and Clarke can see the two of them sitting together in front of it, silhouetted by the flames.

“Is that right?” she hears Bellamy chuckle and Madi gesticulates wildly. 

“It _is_ ,” she insists. “Smoked meat is much better than roasted. You have to try it.”

“Only smoke lodge I tried to build burned down,” Bellamy says and Clarke closes her eyes against the barrage of memories of those early drop ship days, just when she and Bellamy were figuring each other out. “Good thing we got one here. We should have plenty come winter.”

“We’ll do a taste test,” Madi decides and Clarke can hear the smile in her voice. “And then you’ll see.”

“Alright, I’ll hold you to that.”

She’s careful to snag a twig on her approach so that both Bellamy and Madi know she’s coming. Madi’s already bright face lights up further, and Bellamy looks wary, but he gives her a nod. 

“Come to get your kid?”

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to interrupt though,” Clarke says, ducking to give Madi a kiss on the head. “Are you trading cooking tips?”

“Bellamy says he never cooked,” Madi says with a little smile. She feels a little hot under Clarke’s lips, fire-warmed maybe. “He always delegated.”

“That doesn’t seem wrong,” Clarke can’t help but say and Bellamy shrugs.

“Hey, you do what you gotta do.” He’s looking back at the fire now. “You should go with your mom, Madi. Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Come on, _ai natbleda._ Say goodnight.”

Madi stands up, but she’s a little slow, a strange furrow in her brow, even as she smiles at Bellamy. “Goodnight, Bellamy.”

“Goodnight, Madi. Sleep well.”

“Thanks.”

Clarke presses her palm against Madi’s forehead as her charge joins her. “You okay?”

“I just feel a little funny,” Madi admits. 

“Alright. Come on, let’s get you some tea, hm?”

“Yeah,” Madi agrees, which is a little worrying all on it’s own, because Madi usually resists admitting she’s under the weather. 

They make it maybe twenty feet before Madi stumbles next to her and Clarke catches her arm, Madi’s skin radiating heat through the thin fabric of her shirt. “Woah, sweetheart, are you ok?” Clarke asks.

“Clarke?” Madi gasps, eyes big as she looks up at her, sweat beading on her forehead. “Clarke? Anise,” she whispers.

“What?” Clarke asks, not sure she’s heard right.

“Anise. Anise,” Madi repeats. Clarke’s whole body goes cold. Madi stumbles again, her legs giving out under her.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asks, dropping down next to where Madi’s crouched. “Baby, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“My stomach-” Madi whispers. She’s shaking all over under Clarke’s hands, heat radiating off of her. Her eyes are unfocused. “It hurts. It really hurts. I’m… _anise._ ”

“I know,” Clarke says trying to fight down her own rising panic. “Did you eat something?” Clarke is vaguely aware Bellamy’s materialized from the darkness, clearly sensing something’s wrong, and dropped down to a crouch next to them.

“What’s going on?” He asks, but she can’t take her eyes off Madi, her alarm growing as Madi lets out a high, scared whimper and reaches for Clarke, hands shaking as they cling to her arms.

“Madi, what did you eat?”

“She had some meat, maybe twenty minutes ago,” Bellamy says softly and Madi’s head swings towards Bellamy’s voice but her eyes are wide and searching. She can’t see. “She brought it down I- I didn’t eat it.”

“She’s been poisoned,” Clarke whispers, fear clamping in her stomach, panic rising fast as Madi whispers _anise_ again.

“She can’t have been,” Bellamy says. “Who would- Madi where did you get the meat you brought me?”

Madi opens her mouth to reply but all that comes out is harsh, high wheeze. 

“We have to purge her stomach,” Clarke says, her voice oddly distant in her own ears. “Can you lift her?”

“Yes but-”

“Pick her up,” Clarke snaps. “Now! You’re stronger than I am. I need to get her back to the Rover.”

Bellamy scoops Madi up in his arms. Clarke’s running, blind with panic, the rush of fear and adrenaline and Madi’s pained, soft moans her driving her on. Branches catch at her, try to trip her up, but they make it up to the overlook and Madi’s still conscious. 

“What-” Bellamy asks, holding Madi close to his chest as he follows her to the Rover. “What can I do?”

“Just keep her awake.” Her hands are shaking as she frantically grabs her pack of medical supplies. In her haste she spills a tin of medicinal berries on the ground and swears, vision clouding up with panicked tears. Bellamy grunts next to her in surprise and Clarke whips her head around. Madi is convulsing in his arms, back bowing, eyes wide open and seeing nothing as her body seizes

“No, no, no!” Clarke cries, scrambling to get to her daughter. “No, Madi, no, no.”

“Hey, hey,” Bellamy says, dropping down to his knees to get Madi on the ground. “You stay with her. Tell me what you’re looking for.” His voice is low and surprisingly calm and Clarke clings to it. 

“Charcoal. It’s crushed. It needs to be- to be-”

“Mix it with something for her to drink, right?” Bellamy asks and Clarke gapes at him, nods.

“Look after her, I’ll do it.” Clarke pulls Madi into her body, trying to calm the violent convulsions that threaten to smack her head into the ground. Madi’s too hot under her hands, her skin is damp with an unnatural pallor. Her lips are dry, too dry. She’s making an odd gurgling sound in her throat.

“Stay with me, _ai niron_. Please, stay right here,” Clarke begs, hands frantic on Madi’s face.

“This? Hey, look at me, this?” Bellamy shakes a tin to catch Clarke’s attention.

“Yes. _Yes._ Half of it. Hurry, _please_.”

Madi thrashes in Clarke’s arms and Clarke chokes down a sob. Bellamy’s next to her again, a cup of murky dark liquid in his hand. Between them they manage to hold Madi’s face still long enough for him to pour some into her mouth. 

Madi chokes on it, spluttering. The dark, chalky liquid spills back over her lips.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Clarke whispers. 

“Come on, Madi,” Bellamy says next to her. He catches Madi’s chin and manages to get more into Madi’s mouth. Madi thrashes against them. Her head whips away, either in protest of the taste or at the whim of the poison. 

“She needs to drink all of it,” Clarke says, voice tight. “I can’t-”

“Here, give her to me,” Bellamy takes Madi’s weight back from Clarke. He manages to secure her tightly enough that Clarke can prise open her jaw again and get more of the mixture down her throat.

Madi sputters but she swallows it this time. 

“Come on, come on, come on,” Clarke begs under her breath. And then Madi chokes and gags, throwing up dark stomach bile and charcoal on the ground. 

“Good girl,” Clarke says, sagging in relief. “Just a little more.”

“No,” Madi protests faintly, words slurring, when Clarke lifts the cup to her lips again. “I don’t want to, please.”

“This will taste better,” Bellamy promises her. He catches her chin gently but firmly and holds her still even as Madi begins to cry. “Just a few more sips, Madi. That’s all you gotta do.”

Between the two of them, they manage to get Madi to drink the rest. She heaves again, and again, and whatever remained in her stomach comes up quickly. When there’s nothing left for her to expel, Bellamy eases her back into Clarke’s arms. She sobs in Clarke’s lap as Clarke helplessly tries to soothe her. 

“You’re so brave,” Clarke whispers to her, stroking her hair, her back, cradling her head. “You did everything you need to do. Crying’s good. You’re going to be ok. Madi, it’s ok, you’re ok.”

She’s vaguely aware that Bellamy gets up and comes back, draping blanket over Madi to try to forestall her shaking body from going into shock. He drops heavily back to sit on the ground next to them and he’s quiet as Clarke murmurs to Madi, wiping the tear tracks and charcoal stains from her face.

Madi’s sobs turn to shudders and she finally slips from consciousness, exhausted and weak, but safe. Clarke lets her go. Her body needs rest now, needs to use all its resources to fight what it’s already absorbed. 

They’re silent as Clarke collapses over Madi, body shaking with relief and left over adrenaline. She hears Bellamy’s own, measured breath next to her. There’s the hesitant, brief pat of his hand on her shoulder and then it’s gone. 

“What was that?” Bellamy asks, sounding vaguely dazed.

“What was that?” Clarke bites out. With the immediate danger past, there’s a dark, vicious anger rising her chest. “That was your Captain, the one you chose of your own people, trying to kill her.”

Bellamy’s head jerks back. “You think Charmaine did this?”

“Charmaine. Or-or Gordon. Who else would do this?”

“Why would Charmaine try to poison a little girl?” Bellamy snaps back. “Think clearly about this for two seconds.”

“I _am_ ,” Clarke growls. “Charmaine threatened to apply pressure to my weak points. What do you think this is?”

“Charmaine doesn’t murder children! Listen, you have to slow down. No, I mean it,” Bellamy says, grabbing Clarke’s arm to make her look at him. “You’re being provoked.”

“By who? For what?”

“How the fuck should I know? But it’s not in Charmaine’s interests to poison her.”

“But torture is fine by her,” Clarke mutters not looking at Bellamy. She brushes her fingers across Madi’s damp, hot forehead. She looks so little, so pale in Clarke’s arms, and it saps the rage from her. Bellamy’s not to blame for this. “What if she-” she croaks.

Bellamy exhales sharply, shaking off his own pique. “She’s strong,” Bellamy tells her. “She’s a fighter, your kid. And you did good. You saved her.”

“I can’t lose her,” Clarke whispers. “She’s the world to me.”

“You won’t.” He’s emphatic, and Clarke glances up at him, trying to blink back her tears. “She’s going to be ok. You got to her in time.”

“Only because you were there.” The terror of that realization shaking her all over again. “Without you, I couldn’t have gotten her back up here. I couldn’t have gotten her to drink. She would have-”

“She’s alive,” Bellamy says with a gentleness that seems so foreign. “‘What if’s’ don’t matter, ok? Come on, let me help you get her into the Rover. She’ll be more comfortable there.”

Clarke nods dumbly and lets Bellamy shift Madi into his arms and staggers to her feet to follow him. She tucks Madi under furs and blankets and sets a cool damp cloth on her head to help fight the fever. She hovers over her and barely registers Bellamy returning to her side, a cup of cool water in his hand and a hunk of crusty, flat bread.

“It’s alright, I promise,” Bellamy tells her when Clarke hesitates to accept the food. “Echo made it. And you need to eat.”

Bellamy watches her eat, eyes guarded but sincere. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you,” he says slowly and Clarke, still watching Madi, half turns her head towards him to let him know she’s listening. “Don’t tell anyone this happened.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“It’s basic politics. You haven’t kept it a secret you don’t agree with Charmaine.”

Clarke looks at him at that. “So? You just said you didn’t think she was responsible.”

“And I don’t. But if something happens, don’t let this be a motive someone could use to frame you.”

“What do you know?”

“Nothing,” Bellamy says, shaking his head and looking back down at the camp. “Only a feeling.”

“Do you really trust them? Eligius?” Clarke asks him. 

“Trust them?” Bellamy says, like the words are unfamiliar. “I trust what I know of them. I trust Charmaine means to keep order. I trust that others might not want that to be the case.”

“Which others?”

Bellamy looks at her again. “I don’t know. But Earth has that effect on people.” 

It startles a dry, humorless chuckle from Clarke. “That I know all too well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hang out on tumblr as @verbam, and on twitter as @Scoutakline. I like to cry about Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake and the 100 probably more than is societally acceptable.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos keep this grad student trucking. <3


	6. Day 2,217- 2,227

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is so weird writing an au for a season that is blowing my mind with how good it is. \
> 
> ANYWAY THANKS FOR BEING PATIENT. School and life both got kind of crazy but I'm cruising into summer now so I'm looking forward to being able to update on a more set schedule.
> 
> And as always, thank you so so so much for the comments and feedback. It is so great to hear all your thoughts and feel your excitement for this! I love writing it and I love that people are so thrilled about it. I'll be responding to your comments on last chapter within the next day or so. Y'all are seriously wonderful <3
> 
> Warning: This chapter has a semi-graphic description of the effects of physical violence.

He remembers the musty, stale air of Mount Weather. Filtered oxygen that had been sapped of the chill and sweetness of fresh pines and rotting, damp leaves. Fresh air had been a blessing, a welcomed relief to the sickness that rolled in the pit of his stomach. Nausea of what had to be done: he remembers dragging ragged lungfuls of it when they’d finally gotten out. He wishes he could somehow now stumble outside again and find the same tonic.

Now, the air, sweet with cooling summer and wilting late blooming flowers, hardly makes a difference. There’s a buzzing behind his eyes, radiating across the back of his skull as he finally leaves Madi sleeping with the grounder that cares for her and heads back down towards the Eligius camp. There’s a darkness that threatens at the corner his vision, loud and oppressive and endlessly deep. It wells with intentions of consuming him, but Bellamy keeps his eyes on the stones of the path, counts them as he heads down to camp. 

He won’t let it affect him, not now. 

Echo is sitting with Murphy at one of the main fires when Bellamy finally makes it back within the confines. Her hair is loose with a few thick plaints woven through, pretty and tempting. She catches sight of him and her smile goes a little still on her face and she stands suddenly. 

“I’ll see you,” she says to Murphy and then cuts across camp to him. Bellamy doesn’t wait for her, knows she’ll catch him and there’s a splitting headache that’s just cracked across forehead. He makes it inside his tent before he has to catch himself to stay standing. He sways dangerously as the noise rolls across him: endless, unstoppable clamor that ungrounds him and makes his chest tight until Echo wraps her arms across his chest and pulls him back. Her hands catch his and arrest them gently but firmly against his body.

“You’re ok,” Echo tells him, pressing her face against the back of his neck. “Bellamy, _Belomi_ , you need to breathe.”

He tries, but it’s shallow, his chest too constricted against the sledgehammer in his head to let him get proper air. Somehow, it’s Echo’s arms wrapping tighter around him that loosen the coiled tension enough for him to drag in a ragged breath.

“Good,” Echo murmurs into his neck. “Bellamy, you’re ok. Look where you are. Look.”

“The ground,” Bellamy grits out, staring hard at his bedroll, clinging to the familiarity of it as to not slip away. “With you.”

“Yes,” Echo breathes and she traces her fingers over the backs of Bellamy’s hands. “I’m right here. You’re ok.”

“I’m ok,” Bellamy manages to repeat, and sure enough, the noise is his head starts to dim. For a moment, the noise almost has meaning to it, almost is something he wants to understand, but that way surely lies madness. He takes another shaky breath and feels Echo turn her head so her cheek rests at the nap of his neck. For all her strength, she’s so gentle: so good to him. He tempts fate and starts a gentle sway so that Echo will follow him and he can feel the rock of her body. She’s slow to follow him, but then she leans into it. He feels the question in her body still, a hesitancy to her. 

“I thought you didn’t like this anymore,” Echo says after a moment.

Bellamy hums noncommittally. He doesn’t have an answer for that. Normally the slow sway of bodies in a hug is too much for when he’s staving off the darkness, but right now, it helps.

He feels Echo nod. Bellamy’s heart slowly drops back down to it’s normal, steady beat and Echo, her thumbs on his pulse point, tracks it and slowly eases the clasp of her arms. “Want to talk?”

“Someone tried to kill her. Madi.” 

“What?” Her sharp intake of breath has Bellamy flipping his hands over to gently catch hers and squeeze. 

“She’s ok. She’s with– her. She’s safe.”

“Bellamy–”

“I know.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know. There’s no way to know… She thought it was Charamine.”

“Madi did?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Echo murmurs and doesn’t make him clarify who ‘she’ is.

“She might not be wrong,” is what she says instead.

“Echo, don’t.” He knows his voice goes too steely because Echo drops her arms from him. He doesn’t want to push her away. Not right now. The grounder that flickers and glitches like something from another plain has left him feeling too raw, too on edge. It’s been a long time since he and Echo did this without one of the night terrors first, but he wants her, wants to offer them both some relief from the adjustment back to Earth. He turns and catches her face in his hands. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, softly dropping his forehead against hers. He feels her surprise, but she presses back against him. “I didn’t mean that. You’re right, it could be anyone. Which is why we need to get this sorted out before we go for the bunker. Things need to settle. And I can’t make sure that happens without your help. I trust you.”

“I know,” Echo says softly. When he dips his head to kiss her, she returns the soft press of his lips, her hands landing gently on his sides. But when he deepens it, drawing her lower lip into his mouth, Echo slowly but surely pulls back. 

“You know I’m always here for you,” Echo tells him gently, stroking a hand over his face. “When it gets bad, I’ll always be here. But this? You and me? The last time we made love without the _hedkripa_ was a long time ago.”

Bellamy nods softly, keeping his forehead against hers. He runs his hands down her arms. “I know. I know. I’m sorry, I-”

“Stop,” Echo says softly and tilts her head for a kiss. It’s as gentle as her voice. “Apologies are not what I’m after, _Belomi_. If this is what you want, despite all of this, I’m not opposed.”

Bellamy chuckles and nuzzles her face, amused in spite of himself. “Not opposed? Really, Echo?”

A smile touches Echo’s mouth and she turns her head so he kisses her cheek as she leans a little further into his body. “You know what I mean.”

“Maybe I can try to peak your interest a bit, huh? Maybe even get you to mildly interested, what do you say?” He nuzzles at her cheek, his beard tickling her jaw until Echo giggles and curls her arms around him, drawing him closer.

“ _Shof op, yu._ ” 

“Now that’s a good idea.”

Echo’s right, it’s been a long time since fucking has been about them and not about trying to bring Bellamy back into this reality. He doesn’t like that, doesn’t like that it’s been three years since he’s been able to be present enough that he can take his time with her. Echo, for her life of hard training, her skin is still soft under his hands. 

He draws her jacket down her arms, mouthing at her narrow shoulders. He finds the old spot behind her ear that makes her breath get shuddery. Echo makes a surprised maou when he drops to his knees in front of her to untie her laces. 

“Bellamy,” she whispers, fingers tracing down the side of his face. He looks up at her and presses his lips to her hip bone. His heart hurts that he hasn’t let himself take time to this, had pushed Echo away so hard after Eligius picked them up that the only time he let her close was when he had no resistance left. She’d never deserved that, but she’d stayed with him. 

Her cunt is warm and wet under his mouth and Echo, once shy to this kind of love, makes a soft sound of pure relief when Bellamy licks gently across her clit. He spends the time it takes to get her off twice like this, her soft gasps and muted murmurs all the encouragement he needs, and then pulls her into his lap and lets her set the pace to ride him. 

“What will you do?” Echo asks him, her hair falling around them, canopying them in. Bellamy’s a little lost in the slow rock of her hips, the way it makes his cock drag inside her without any rush. 

“With what?” he murmurs, trying to get his bearings.

“With her. And Madi.”

“Try to keep them out of trouble,” Bellamy says. “She knows the valley, knows how to survive. We need her.”

Echo’s eyes are too intense on his face to he draws her into a kiss, trying for distraction. Echo either gives it up, or accepts it, or both. 

~~ ~~

Clarke fell asleep curled around Madi, the gentle rise and fall of Madi’s breath comforting against her chest. Her dreams were plagued with death in a way they haven’t been a long, long time. They flicker between the Dropship, Mount Weather, Polis– all made worse as Madi appears in the piles of bodies. Clarke wakes up too early, before the sun comes up, her heart beating painfully hard against her ribs.

Madi’s quiet next to her, still breathing, still alive. Clarke presses her fingers to her head, and her fever’s still down. She’s going to be ok, Clarke tells herself. Bellamy was right, they’d gotten to her in time. Clarke presses a kiss to Madi’s forehead and then slides out the back of the rover. She’s become an early riser, in part because the responsibility of caring for Madi meant that waking up early both gave her time to get ready for the day, and gave her some time alone. 

Madi is never too much, has never overwhelmed Clarke with responsibility the way that some her friends did back at the drop ship, but there are some things she rarely let herself feel around her daughter. Drawing was one of the few ways that she could quietly express some of the grief and loneliness she felt that she could never weave into her stories. She brings her sketchpad with her now and settles on the log that looks out over the camp and faces the Eastern mountains. By her best guess, in the early grey predawn light, she’s got maybe thirty minutes before the sun rises. 

She flips through her sketchbook to find a blank page, trying not to dwell of the pages that are filled with her friends from memory. There are too many hopes that live in the lines of charcoal on those pages, hopes that feel naive now and painful. She’s not sure what exactly she’s going to draw until her hand starts moving. To her surprise, even with the distance she’s tried to take for herself, for him, it’s Bellamy’s familiar form that appears on the page. 

But this isn’t old memories surfacing, informing what she’s drawing. Bellamy fills out on the page with his black Eligius uniform: bulkier, older, handsome at thirty in a way that was different from boyish good looks at twenty-three. It hurts to draw it, but there’s a catharsis there too. This is Bellamy, now. Here. And there, appearing in his arms, is Madi’s slender form. 

“That’s really good,” a soft voice says behind.

“ _Jesus_ fucking Christ,” Clarke yelps. “Echo, are you kidding me?”

“Sorry,” Echo says quickly, raising her hands as Clarke cranes her neck to look at her. Echo’s gaze drops to Clarke’s hand and she realizes it’s resting on the long knife at her belt. “I swear I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“Well, good to know that you’ve still got your training, I guess,” Clarke grumbles, trying to calm the wild panic of her heart without giving too much away. From the flicker on Echo’s face, she can tell though. To her credit, Clarke thinks, at least she’s trying to hide her amusement. 

“What are you doing up so early, anyway?” Clarke asks, trying to deflect attention.

Echo lifts her chin at the Eastern mountains, which are just starting to glow pink, heralding the sun’s approach. “The sunrise,” she says. “I lived six years of my life without sunrises. If I can help it, I’d like not to miss another.” She smiles faintly at Clarke, the early morning breeze ruffling the tendrils of her hair that have escaped her ponytail. 

“Here,” Clarke says scooting over a little on the log. “You can join me, if you want. We’ve got the best view.”

“Thank you,” Echo murmurs and sinks down next to her. For a moment they sit in silence and Echo, in a move that surprises Clarke, fiddles almost nervously with the zipper tab on her jacket. That jacket itself seems loose on her, a little big in the shoulders, and Clarke realizes that it’s Bellamy’s. 

“I heard,” Echo says softly, all of a sudden. “About Madi. How is she?”

“Still sleeping,” Clarke says, looking away. “She’s going to be ok. Just needs rest at this point.”

“I’m glad. Truly,” Echo says and Clarke can tell from the corner of her eye that Echo’s looking at her. 

“It’s thanks to Bellamy she’s alive,” Clarke says, looking down at her feet.

“I would say it’s thanks to both of you. Neither of you could have saved her without the other. He was shaken, Clarke,” Echo says not unkindly. “I don’t think he expected anyone from Eligius to attack Madi.”

“Did he have… was he ok?”

“We stopped it before it got bad,” Echo says softly. 

“I probably triggered it,” Clarke says looking down at her hands, trying not to feel guilty about things outside of her control. “I got annoyed with him. Well, I got mad at him.”

“He didn’t mention that,” Echo says. “And… I wouldn’t be so quick to condemn yourself. It wasn’t all bad last night.”

Clarke feels a flash of something funny in her chest, a little cold, a little hot. A lot something that isn’t hers to feel. “Oh?” She asks forcing that something down. 

Echo looks at her cautiously. “He was more himself last night that he has been since we were on Go-Sci. Not entirely, not like he used to be, but he was there.”

Clarke smiles at her as much as she can. “That’s good,” she says quietly. 

“I think it’s because of you,” Echo continues. “Or you and Madi. Clarke, I’m serious,” Echo says when Clarke drops her gaze, that sentiment just a little too painful. “I can’t remember the last time Bellamy was so open with me, and you two are the only things that have changed in all of this.”

“Well there’s being back on Earth,” Clarke says dryly. The intensity of Echo’s gaze is a little too much.

Echo tsks softly. “You and I both know that Bellamy cares more about people than he ever has about place and location.” She narrows her eyes at Clarke. “You’re being dense about this on purpose.”

“I’m not, I swear. But he doesn’t want me near him. And I can’t–” the catch in her throat surprises her and she swallows awkwardly and pushes through it. “Echo, I can’t make him remember me if he doesn’t want to.”

“He knows you, Clarke. Even if he still can’t admit it.”

“So what do I do?” Clarke asks a little helplessly. “I’ve promised to give him space. _I_ need to take space. Because it hurts,” she admits. “And I hate that it does, but he was what I–” but that’s too far for her to even acknowledge to herself, let alone speak aloud and she cuts herself off abruptly. She stares at her hands instead, feeling suddenly too exposed and vulnerable. She’s never let herself be this open with anyone save Bellamy before, and she’s out of practice. 

“Maybe just keep doing what you’re doing,” Echo says softly and reaches out to touch her shoulder. It’s the same hesitant touch that Bellamy had given her last night and Clarke aches the physical memory of it. “Maybe it’s not about what you do, but just that you’re here.”

Clarke looks away and nods. “Maybe.”

The sun crests over the lowest peak then, dappling the camp with filigrees of sunlight across the hulking Eligius ship and the crabs. The tents remain untouched by it, but it reaches Clarke and Echo at the overlook. It warms Echo’s face and highlights her cheekbones, the purse of her lips, makes her look otherworldly as she studies Clarke. 

“You love him,” Echo says quietly. “Or you did?”

Clarke blinks back the sunlight. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe it was the idea of him. Do you?”

“Yes,” Echo answers, just as evenly. “But not in the ways I think you mean.”

“Why are you asking me then?” Clarke wonders.

Echo shrugs, a funny defensive roll that Clarke hasn’t seen from her before. She thinks she recognizes it from Murphy, but she couldn’t be sure. “Because I think you should know that he loved you once, too.”

“It’s a moot point, either way. Eligius saw to that.”

Echo doesn’t respond just leans her elbows on her thighs and studies the scattering pink and gold clouds. “If I could have,” she says quietly. “I would have painted sunrises and sunsets every day in space.”

“I didn’t know you were an artist.”

“I’m not. But I think, like you, I could have drawn what I missed the most. And I can’t imagine resisting them now.”

~~ ~~

Echo leaves not long after. She has a work detail, but she tips a few berries into Clarke’s hand before she goes. “I’m sure you have these, but in case you need more. Good for headaches. For _yu strikon.”_

“ _Mochof. Ai na tel Madi op yu don ste hir.”_

Echo nods. “ _Chof._ ”

If she was back at their home, Clarke would make Madi the meal she always did after Madi got sick- fresh venison with eggs and a bitter but healing tea that she could usually ply Madi to drink if she promised her hot cakes baked in the fires’ coals later in the day. Clarke doesn’t have any of that at her disposal, so she brews sweet tea and sets aside the berries Echo gave her. She’s running low on the oatmeal she’d brought with them, and wonders if she can risk going down to the camp to pick up food. The thought makes her sick, both in trusting someone to give her untainted meat, and also the idea that Madi could wake up alone.

Clarke’s hovering worriedly over the fire, trying to decide her best course of action when she hears the soft scrape of boots on the path and whirls around. 

It’s Bellamy. 

He lifts a hand in surprise, maybe trying to be soothing. “ _Em laik ait_.”

“Since when do you speak Trig?” It comes out accusatory in her surprise even as relief sweeps over her. There’s a small wrapped package in Bellamy’s hands: food.

“Thought you’d like to hear your native language,” Bellamy mutters but tilts the food pack in a uncertain offer.

“It’s not my native language,” Clarke says. “ _Ba chof_.”

“You’re welcome.” He hesitates for a moment after he hands it over to her and Clarke suddenly doesn’t know what to say. They spoke easily enough last night, with the conduit of crisis to bridge the expanse between them. But it’s different now. The sunlight casts their last few weeks, their last few interactions, into stark relief. Clarke waits for Bellamy to turn and leave, looking down at the food to give him an opening to do so, but when she looks up again, he’s still lingering.

“Madi–” she starts, trips over her words. “She’ll be happy you came up here.”

“Yeah. I, uh. I wanted to make sure she was ok.”

“Do you want to stay until she wakes up?”

“Would that bother you?”

“No. No, she’d like that.”

Bellamy nods, hands landing on his hips, and he scuffs his boot. “Thanks.”

Clarke gestures stiltedly to the stumps by the fire and sits on one herself while she unwraps the package. Inside there’s a couple thick slabs of meat, freshly roasted mushroom caps and an odd grey bar that Clarke doesn’t recognize. She picks it up in question.

“One of the last Med-MRAs,” Bellamy gruffs. “It’s good for the gut, so I’m told.”

“Did Monty make these?”

A faint smile touches Bellamy’s briefly. “Good guess.”

“Thanks. For all of this. It’ll help her feel like herself.”

“Not a problem.”

Clarke puts the little canvas package aside and doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. There’s so much unsaid between them, and nothing to say all at once. She’s still uncertain about her voice effecting him, so everything she does say has to be careful, pitched lower than her voice on the radio had been. Still, she wants to try. “Do you want some tea?”

“Sure. Thanks,” he accepts the cup she offers him and takes a curious, tentative sip from it. “Shit, this isn’t bad.”

“No,” Clarke can’t help but smile a little. “It’s not.”

Bellamy gives her a thin lipped smile, just a flash before it’s gone again. “How do you make this?”

“Mint, honey, cardamom. Tea leaves,” Clarke lists off on her fingers and Bellamy nods after each one, even though she’s not sure he could recognize any of those flavors on their own. It’s funny, how much of her daily knowledge is something that is foreign to him. It’s not something she ever considered before- even if Eligius hadn’t picked up her friends, this gap would still exist. They’d still be so different from who they had been before. 

“Did you make this up for Madi?”

“Yeah,” Clarke chuckles in spite of herself. “Why?”

“You don’t strike me as someone who likes sweet things.”

“No?” Clarke asks. She can’t remember if she ever told Bellamy that she wasn’t fond of sweet flavors, but it certainly used to be true. She wonders what about her gives off that impression. “I like them in small doses. Or I’ve learned too anyway.”

Bellamy hums and they lapse back into silence. Clarke pours herself a cup of tea as well and returns the small kettle to the flames so that it stays hot for Madi. 

It’s strange, to be here with him. For all the distance she’s tried to take in the last few weeks, all that rationale behind it melts away when she’s close him again. They may not be the same people, but a small, desperate part of Clarke still wants to be close to Bellamy. Can she do that, she wonders? Can she still prioritize the bunker, their people, and allow herself to be close to Bellamy? It’s not something she could have done before, but maybe now, maybe knowing how different they are, she can try. Their history deserves that at least. 

It’s hard to try to verbalize that, though, when Bellamy’s sitting her, with no memory of her. All he knows of this new her is pain and panic and anger. It’s not the best footing to start off on, but then again, that’s how they started once, a long, long time ago.

“Hey, listen,” Clarke says when the silence stretches long enough that it feels loaded, almost impossible to break with small talk. She’s never been good with small talk anyway. “About before…” She sees Bellamy stiffen, and she hurriedly says, “I’m sorry. I think I hurt you, or that you thought I was trying to hurt you or trick you. I wasn’t. Really. All I ever wanted was to be your friend.”

Bellamy nods slowly again and stares hard into his cup, like he’s trying to find answers there. 

“I- well. You don’t need to answer that. I just wanted to let you know. And if there’s a chance we still could be friends, I’d like that.”

Bellamy looks up at her. “I believe you,” he says. “I don’t really have many friends. I think I’ve forgotten what that’s like. But I don’t want to be at odds with you. There’s no reason we can’t get along.”

“Allies then?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, chuckling maybe in spite of himself. “Allies seems like the right term.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Clarke says and extends her cup. Bellamy clinks his cup against hers. They take slow sips of tea, and this time, when silence settles between them, it doesn’t feel as oppressive. 

“Clarke?” 

Her voice is weak, but Clarke leaps up and is at the Rover before she even realizes she’s moved. “Madi,” she gasps. The little girl is struggling to sit up in bed. She’s still pale and there are dark, dark hollows under her eyes, but there’s relief on her face as she sees Clarke. “How are you feeling?” Clarke asks as she helps her daughter sit up and scoot to perch on the tailgate.

“Ok,” Madi says, letting Clarke press her fingers to her forehead and check her pulse without complaint. “Kind of shaky, and tired. My head hurts.”

“Your body’s been through a lot,” Clarke tells her gently, satisfied that her fever is down and that her pulse seems normal. “Why don’t we try a little bit of food and see how that feels. How does that sound?”

“Mmm,” Madi hesitates, looking a little uncertain.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Clarke promises. “It won’t make you sick again, I promise. And someone special brought it.”

Madi looks at her curiously and Clarke steps out of the way so that she’s not blocking the view of the fire. Madi’s face lights up at seeing Bellamy and then she looks back up at Clarke quizzically. “He came to visit us?” she whispers.

“He came to visit you,” Clarke says. “He was worried about you. Come on, come sit and you two can talk.”

“Ok, Clarke. But you won’t leave, will you?”

“I won’t” Clarke promises, feeling a funny catch in her throat. She loves Madi so much it scares her sometimes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Clarke gets Madi settled by fire, draping a blanket over her shoulders and starting her off with a little bit of tea just to test her stomach. 

“Hi, Bellamy,” Madi says, almost shyly. “I’m glad you came to see us.”

“I’m glad you’re ok,” Bellamy tells her. “You had your mom and me really worried there for a second.”

Madi catches his teasing a smile flickers across her face. “Well I didn’t mean to,” she says rolling her eyes and Clarke can’t help but shoot Bellamy a look gratitude over Madi’s head. Keeping her humor up is just as important as getting her body back on track. The last thing she wants is for Madi to be constantly afraid for her life. 

“You sure?” Bellamy goads her and Madi giggles. 

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright, if you say so.”

“Here, eat this, sweetheart,” Clarke says, breaking off a chunk of the Med-MRA for Madi to try.

“What’s that?” Madi asks, wrinkling her nose at the processed, dry bar.

“It’s good for you,” Clarke says. “It’s going to make you feel better. And then you can have some of the other food Bel- Blake brought, and some berries Echo brought to help with your headache, ok?”

She glances at Bellamy, not quite sure about using his name or his last name yet, but Bellamy just nods at her. She’s never called him by his last name before, and maybe that’s easier for them now, rather than trying to dance around not saying his name at all. Madi lifts her eyebrows at her curiously, but doesn’t ask questions. She just accepts the Med-MRA and grimaces as she takes a bite.

“This is gross.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy chuckles. “But like your mom said, it’s good for you.”

Clarke kisses Madi’s forehead when she pulls a face but continues to take small, tentative bites of the bar. She’s always been a good eater when she trusts what’s in front of her.

“Do you want to talk about last night?” Clarke asks her gently, sitting down next to her so Madi can curl into her side. 

“I…” Madi hesitates, uncertain. “I don’t know what happened. I just remember getting a bad stomach ache and then...” her voice wavers and she looks up at Clarke a little fearfully. “I don’t remember.”

Clarke glances at Bellamy carefully. “We think the food you ate made you sick. Really sick. Do you remember who you got the meat from?”

“It was just up here. Like how Raven sometimes leaves us food.”

“Ok,” Clarke says. “Can we make a deal? Let’s not eat anything unless we get it from each other, or our friends, or directly from the MessCrab ok?”

“Did someone try to hurt me?” Madi asks, hearing right through the delicate truth Clarke is trying to step around.

“Maybe,” Bellamy says, thankfully jumping in. “Maybe they did, or maybe they were trying to hurt your mom. But we don’t know for sure. I think your mom’s right– it’s best if you know exactly who’s giving you you’re food. It’s a rule we should all follow.”

“Clarke?” Madi whispers, looking fearfully up at her. 

“It’s ok, _ai niron_ ,” Clarke tells her gently, wrapping an arm around her. “I don’t think anyone actually wants to hurt you. I think it was a test. And now we know how to be safer, right? It’s like learning which berries or plants are safe to eat and not, right? It’s no different than recognizing poisonous plants in the woods and not picking those, right?”

“I guess so,” Madi decides, maybe mildly comforted. 

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Clarke promises Madi. “And you did such a good job last night letting me know something was wrong. I’m proud of you, Madi.”

Madi nods and tucks her head into the hollow of Clarke’s shoulder, a familiar place she liked to burrow into when she was small. “Ok,” she whispers, but she sounds comforted.

Clarke catches Bellamy’s eye and nods at the packet of food. Bellamy picks it up and scoots closer to them. 

“Hey, Madi, you told me you liked mushrooms, right? You feel like having one for breakfast?”

The distraction and ploy work, and Madi starts to look like herself again by the time that Bellamy finally leaves for his work detail. “You’re off for the day,” he tells Clarke as he pats Madi’s shoulder in parting. “All you have to do is look after your kid.”

“Thank you,” Clarke says, a funny feeling filling her. It’s only after he’s gone and she and Madi are curling back up into the back of the Rover for a nap that she realizes that it’s not a new feeling, it’s simply the absence of loneliness. 

~~ ~~

Madi makes a full recovery, and within forty-eight hours, her energy and mood have perked back up and Clarke feels confident enough to leave her with her friends to return to hunting detail. 

She also starts to take time over the next week to do her own foraging. She had learned a long time ago to always pack more than she needed to for a short trip, so the rations she and Madi had brought with them for their planned weekend herb gathering trip had lasted for several weeks, mixed in the food that she’d helped Eligius catch and store. She doesn’t trust going home yet, not with the likelihood that she’ll be followed, and she doesn’t want Eligius and Charmaine anywhere near her village. It’s rustic beauty and the small comforts she’d built for her friends don’t belong to the people that tortured her best friend and nearly killed her daughter. 

She spends the first week collecting wild oats from the grasses south of the camp, refilling her pack with the small, tiny grains that Madi loves for her breakfast. She collects seeds too, and finds surprised delight in a patch of sunflowers that are ready to have their seeds harvested. 

She shares some the seeds with friends around the Eligius campfires at night. Emori and Echo are probably the most excited, but Zeke, who’s started to form a habit of joining them on occasion is equally, and more expressively, grateful. Clarke hasn’t quite figured the former joy-rider-turned kidnapper out yet, but Raven is at ease enough with him to put her at ease, and he gives Madi plenty of space, so she lets the matter lie. If she catches him starring a little moon-eyed at Echo now and then again, that’s his business. Echo pointedly ignores him.

Bellamy joins them one night. Following Madi tugging him by the hand, he hesitates at the edge of the fire light, clearly not totally comfortable joining his friends in this way. “Bellamy,” Raven shouts, breaking the tension. “Stop being weird and come sit with us.” Bellamy presses his lips together, but he sits next to Echo when she makes room for him, and it’s not totally easy and comfortable, but Clarke sees everyone try. Four years of growing apart, most of them pushed away by Bellamy without knowing the reason way, has left its toll on all of them, but Clarke thinks everyone knows now, either through Monty or Raven, and they’re trying. They let Bellamy sit quietly with them, and pass him cups of moonshine, even though he only sips at them. When Clarke offers him the bag of seeds, he nods at her without quite meeting her eyes.

They’re still stilted and uncomfortable, but the malice and distrust has faded. She supposes it’s the best she can hope for at this point.

Nuts are next on her list, and even though it’s still late summer, Clarke has a good sense that some trees might be nutting early. So she’s perched up in a hickory tree, carefully harvesting some of the early nuts into her small burlap sack when she hears someone coming below. She tenses more out habit than actual fear. Her absences from the Eligius camp are probably conspicuous, but she pulls her work detail shifts without complaint, brings in twice the amount of food that everyone else does, maybe only challenged by Echo and Emori, and no one bothers her about where she goes when she’s not around. 

Sometimes she’s gotten the sense that she’s been followed, or being watched. It makes the back of her neck prickle, but since there’s nothing that she’s giving away other than basic food supplies, and she trusts no one can get close to her without alerting her to their presence, like now, she’s let it be. Let them think that they have the upper hand.

She draws her feet up silently and curls in close to the trunk of tree. She always prefers to be spotted on her own terms. She’s not sure who she’s expecting to come into the little clearing of trees, but it’s certainly not Bellamy by himself, and she doesn’t expect him to stop and look up.

“Hey, treehugger!” he calls up to her. Clarke snorts despite herself. “Got a minute?”

“Hey yourself,” she calls back down. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Madi told me where you’d likely be,” Bellamy says. “She told me what kind of trees to look for.”

Bellamy’s always been a good tracker, and Clarke’s not sure why she’s so surprised that he found her but she smiles. “Well, you found me.”

“You got a minute? I need your help.”

“Oh. Sure.” Clarke ties off the little bag of nuts at her belt and easily scales back down to the ground. “What’s up?”

“Someone’s gone missing,” Bellamy says. “Not many of the crew are fit for tracking. And you know the terrain. I figured you might be able to help.”

“I can try,” Clarke says. “What about Echo?”

“She’s tracking south. I sent Emori east. But you know the land, I thought you and I could take the north and west territory.”

“No one knows where they went?”

“No one saw him leave camp,” Bellamy says, a shadow passing across his expression. “Or at least no one admits to it.”

“Oh. You think-” but Clarke doesn’t need to finish that thought. She and Bellamy both know that people missing from camp usually means death. And in their experience, it’s usually at the hands of someone else. “Right. Who was it?”

Bellamy glances her out of the corner of his eye as they start to walk. “Gordon.”

Something sinks in Clarke’s stomach. The man who had held a grudge against her for being late to her first work detail, the man who had attacked her and Madi in the Mess line a few weeks back. He didn’t seem like a particularly popular man, but Clarke suddenly doesn’t want to find him. She knows exactly where to look.

“I was foraging North yesterday,” she says quietly. 

“So?”

“So I think that’s where we should start.”

“Hey,” Bellamy says, catching her arm just above the elbow. “Do you know something?”

“Have I been followed when I go out?” Clarke asks him bluntly.

“There’s been no council order to do so.”

“But you’re not sure.”

Bellamy hesitates and that’s enough for Clarke. “You know Gordon doesn’t like me.”

“The whole camp knows that,” Bellamy says, and it’s not just stating the obvious, there’s a warning laced under his words.

“If Gordon’s been missing since yesterday, and he followed me, then we should start in the area I was in yesterday.”

Bellamy’s eyes search her face but he nods. “Ok,” he says. “Following your lead.”

They walk in silence together, wary, and the bird song falling mute around them seems more like a warning for them than for the other animals. The patch of woods Clarke had been in the day before are peaceful, white dogwoods and moss covered birches are dappled in late summer sunlight, and the buzz and thrum of cicadas around them reminds Clarke of all the nights she and Madi would pack little picnics to take into the woods near their home. 

“Ok,” she says. “This is where I was.”

“He might not be here,” Bellamy says, but he doesn’t sound convinced by that. Clarke locates the trees she had been in and they find her soft footprints heading back to camp. They walk in widening circles out around the clearing she had been in. The first three reveal nothing, and Clarke has half convinced herself that maybe she’s being overly paranoid. 

But then, on the fourth pass, she and Bellamy both see the patch of broken brush. They glance at each other, and she thinks they’re both uneasy. 

“Careful,” Bellamy says shortly, and steps in front of Clarke to follow the trail of trodden, snapped twigs and grass. Even someone with her or Bellamy’s tracking skills could have picked this up, Clarke thinks a little numbly. About twenty feet from the first signs of struggle, there’s blood spatter on the leaves. Another fifty feet with intermittent patches of blood, they can hear the flies swarming. 

“There,” Bellamy says, lifting a hand to point. 

It’s cleverly done. Gordon’s body hangs in the shadow of a tall beech tree, it’s branches cloaking his limp bulk, and if someone hadn’t been looking for a body, they may have missed him entirely. 

“You don’t have to–” Bellamy starts but Clarke pushes past him, despite her nausea. 

Gordon’s been hanged. His face is engorged and blue, tongue hanging grotesquely from his mouth. The rope used to hang him is looped twice around the branch above, and Clarke knows what that means without thinking about it. It wouldn’t have taken much strength to heft his body off the ground. 

But that’s not what killed him. The iron spike that's been rammed through his chest is still dripping blood. 

“What’s–”

Clarke turns abruptly away. “It's been taken from a bear trap,” Clarke says. “My bear trap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Hedkripa - Nightmares (Also has been theorized to have connotations of mental illness)
> 
> Shof op yu - Shut up, you
> 
> Mochof. Ai na tel Madi op yu don ste hir _-_ Thank you. I’ll tell Madi you were here.
> 
> Chof - Thanks.
> 
> Em laik ait.- It’s ok.
> 
> –––––  
> Thank you all so much for reading!!! Comments and kudos are seriously so appreciated. xoxo


	7. Day 2,227

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for bearing with me through the insane month June turned out to be. Sorry I wasn't as regular in updating as I hoped, there was a ton of IRL stuff to deal with but here we are! 
> 
> Thanks to cetaprincipessa and story-skein for betaing for me!

The forest is eerily quiet around them- the birds silent, the sun disappearing behind a passing cloud so that a light chill falls over them. The flies around Gordon’s body seem to swarm more intensely as a rising nausea rises in Clarke’s throat. Her whole body is hot and cold and numb all at once and Clarke feels like her senses narrow to the buzz of the insects, the drip of Gordon’s blood. Death shouldn’t shock her anymore, it doesn’t, but the repercussions of this yawn open below her feet.

“We should get his body back to camp,” Bellamy says, voice low but it startles her.

She turns sharply on her heel and stalks back the way they came. 

“Hey!” Bellamy calls after her. “Where you going?”

Clarke can barely answer. Get back to camp, get Madi, go home, stock up on their provisions and then– her plans stall out as Bellamy catches her arm and pulls her back around to look at him. 

“No,” Clarke chokes. “Let me go. I didn’t do this.”

“Hey, no one said you did,” Bellamy says, not unkindly. 

“ _They_ will!” She gestures inarticulately back at camp. “I have to go. I have to get Madi and go.”

“Go where?” Bellamy snaps. “We’re in the only livable place on earth. If you run, Diyoza will take it as a sign of your guilt. She’ll hunt you down here, or you’ll die in the deadzone.”

“I didn’t do this,” Clarke whispers again. “You have to believe me.”

“I do,” Bellamy says quietly with such an assuredness that Clarke can’t help but gape at him. “But I can’t convince the council of that unless you come back with me.”

“Why?” Clarke can’t help but ask. “Look at the crime scene. This was made to look like I did this.”

“Someone who loves their kid the way you do wouldn’t do this. You’re too smart, you know what would happen to her,” Bellamy says. He carefully lets go of Clarke’s arm, assessing her face carefully, and then he drops his hand briefly to her shoulder and squeezes. “We’ll get this sorted out, ok?”

Clarke hesitates. “Trust me,” Bellamy urges her.

“How, when you don’t even trust me?” Clarke can’t help the frustrated, terrified tears that whelm in her eyes. She won’t let herself cry, she won’t do that to Bellamy, but the terror for Madi more than for herself is threatening to engulf her. Bellamy flinches at that and drops his gaze, half turning away.

“I trust you,” he says softly. “You could have poisoned us all at any point. This valley is your home, you know it better than we ever will. But you’re helping us. We’re surviving because of you. I don’t get that but-”

“Don’t you?”

“Don’t start,” Bellamy warns, voice hardening, but he takes a slow breath and rolls his shoulders. “Come on, ok? Come back to camp and we’ll sort this out.”

Clarke closes her eyes. It’s not hard to summon the night that became legend in her stories to Madi- where Shumway had become a ghost and Dax a boy possessed; the old oak, the rough bark of which she can still remember against her back from when she sat next to Bellamy in the mud and dirt and blood, growing taller in each retelling. They are so different now from that night, but somehow they can’t escape their own history, even when it’s history Bellamy can’t acknowledge.

“Ok,” Clarke says. 

The relief on Bellamy’s face takes them both by surprise, and he turns abruptly away from her. “Good,” he says brusquely. “If I cut him down, can you–”

Clarke’s already on it. She slashes down a few supple branch from a sapling and Bellamy nods. She gets to work on the makeshift stretcher as Bellamy sees to Gordon’s body.

~~ ~~

The council room of the Eligius feels colder when Clarke steps in just behind Bellamy. Somehow, the bridge seems to have aged in just the few weeks since she’s last been here. The chrome seems to have lost some of its shine, the flicker of the holoboards is gone. The room is severe and foreboding: its own forgotten ruin, out of time.

Unlike the last time Clarke was here, there’s no noise, no expectancy directed at her. Charmaine, standing at the table and peering down into Gordon’s swollen, lifeless face, draws attention and focus with the gravity of a dying star. Her eyes are cold, calculating as she takes in the ligature marks on his neck. 

Clarke finds she’s so focused on Charmaine that she almost walks into Bellamy’s back, not realizing he’s stopped. He holds out an arm without looking at her and Clarke knows better than to pass him, than to break the fragile, taught silence. She glances at Bellamy’s face, but his full attention is on Charmaine.

Charmaine whips the sheet back over Gordon’s head, the snap of it in the room startling one of the other Council members and Clarke feels more than hears Bellamy take a breath next to her.

“Explain.” It’s bitten out, cold and harsh.

“We found him in the Northwest woods. Dead maybe a day.”

“Describe it.”

“We found the trail, maybe one hundred yards from a tree this one was in yesterday,” Bellamy says with jerk of his chin at Clarke. “Signs of a struggle, blood another ten yards back. He was hanged, rope wrapped twice around the branch, a spear through his chest.”

“A spear?”

“She says it’s from one of her traps.”

“Which?”

“Only the killer knows.”

The back and forth between them is dizzying, Charmaine firing off questions almost before Bellamy has finished speaking, her eyes never leaving his face. This is an interrogation as much as it is a report, Clarke realizes. 

“Does she?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“We checked two on the way back, both intact.”

Charmaine’s eyes narrow and she turns abruptly away from Bellamy, she gaze snapping to Clarke.

“What did I tell you, the day we met?” Charmaine asks, voice cold and low and Clarke refuses to let it the chill of them seep deeper into her.

“You told me that murder was punished with death.”

“That’s right. And here we are, with a man who you were known to be unpopular with, dead. No gunshot, a spear from one of your traps through his chest, and last alive near where you were off on your own. What would you think if you were me?”

“I didn’t-”

“With all due respect,” Bellamy cuts in. “The fact that there wasn’t a gunshot should make us look at our own crew, not the girl.”

Charmaine’s eyes narrows dangerously, still fixed on Clarke. The slow turn of her head and consideration of Bellamy makes one of the Council members look down, another shift. Speaking out of turn is rare. Clarke doesn’t risk her own glance at Bellamy.

“What was that, Blake?” Charmaine’s voice is dangerous, as if daring him to actually speak again.

“You know that the bullets carry the signature of the weapon that fired them. Our whole crew knows that. _She_ doesn’t,” Bellamy says. “If this was her doing, she’d have used Gordon’s own gun against him, or stolen one to try to frame someone else. The fact that it was used entirely with tools from the ground should mean that we’re looking at our own people, someone who doesn’t want to get caught.”

“No gunshot hardly proves that definitively.”

“No, but it casts reasonable doubt, doesn’t it?” Bellamy asks cooly. Charmaine’s eyes narrow further.

“There’s overwhelming evidence, by your own report, that this is likely her doing.”

“It’s not,” Clarke says, finding her own voice again, suddenly. “Blake’s right, the set up is too obvious. Someone who was smart did this, someone who knew where Gordon would be, alone, and watching me. Why would I kill him when I was without an alibi? It’s too obvious.”

“When you hear hooves, think horses,” Charmaine says dryly. “I should lock you in the brigg and be done with you.”

“Don’t do the exact same thing that was done to you, to half your people,” Bellamy cuts in again. “She’s not the killer.”

“It’s funny, I don’t remember asking for your opinion again, Blake. Kindly shut up.”

“Did you order a watch on the girl when she left camp?”

“What?” Charmaine asks, voice like ice. 

“Did you order her watched?”

“Why should I?”

“Because Gordon was scheduled to be on construction on Crab ‘14. I checked the logs when we got back- they say his ID signed in and signed out again around twenty-hundred hours. Problem is, Gordon was long dead by then. If Gordon was acting alone and the girl killed him, why would anyone bother covering his shift?”

Charmaine is quiet for a long moment again. 

“I have heard you talk about justice,” Bellamy continues. “This is not who you want to be, and how you want to start things off. We are a camp of violent offenders. Odds are, it’s not going to be a stranger whose own survival and the survival of her kid rests on being liked by us.”

Charmaine considers Bellamy with open hostility, but there’s something else too in her expression, maybe something like fear, but then she dips her chin in assent. “You have logic to your argument, even if you’re unorthodox in your approach. Mind yourself, Blake. I will withhold judgement. But you are on thin ice,” Charmaine says, eyes whipping to Clarke again. “And you. You are no longer needed at this meeting. Get out.”

This time Clarke doesn’t have to be told twice, she turns and escapes the tomb-like room. She nearly runs right into McCreary who’s lingering just outside of the door.

“Easy, Clarke.” McCreary steadies her, too-hot hands on her shoulders. “You look pale.”

“What are you doing here?” Clarke blurts out, the relief of her pardoning stealing her tact. 

McCreary chuckles. “The Captain, in all her wisdom, summoned me. Seems there may be a security problem she could use some advice on.”

Clarke stares at him for a moment, cold sliding down her spine. “From you?”

“That’s right. Former Head of Security and all that. Don’t worry,” he says with a wink that does nothing to comfort Clarke. “I’ll keep you and the kiddo safe.”

Clarke stares at him as he steps around her and onto the Bridge of Eligius. The door slides shut with a soft _snick_ behind him and Clarke is left in the empty hallway, the distant sound of hammers and murmured hush of voices soldered together. 

~~ ~~

She doesn’t realize she’s looking for Echo until she sees the former spy’s tall, athletic silhouette walking the perimeter of camp. Her raised hand in response to Clarke’s eyes soothes something frantic in her chest. Clarke weaves her way through the end of the last shift, the men and women in black at east enough with her presence by now that she doesn’t stick out as much. She falls in step with Echo and with a glance from Echo, knows not to speak until they get a little distance from the rest of the crew.

Echo holds her allotted rifle easily, with the same grip that Clarke remembers so clearly belonged to Bellamy. “He teach you that?” Clarke asks before she can stop herself, nodding to Echo’s rifle. 

“Not exactly,” Echo says, looking down. “I picked it up from watching him: I’m a good mimic.”

“I guess you had to be, with your profession.”

Echo smiles at her, a little tentatively. “I’ve had to be since I was a child. It just came in handy with spying. But you aren’t here to just chat about my skills.”

“No,” Clarke admits softly. “I was hoping you knew something.” She flicks her eyes at Echo. “Sorry.”

Echo just shakes her head. “Don’t apologize. You and I, we’re on the same team.”

“We are,” Clarke says. “But what I don’t know is who is on the other team.”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Echo says, voice dropping even as she shoots a smile at another Eligius guard. It doesn’t quite touch her eyes. “As well as how many teams there are in play.”

“That too.” Clarke glances up at the taller woman. “What do you know?”

“Only what Bellamy senses too, that somethings brewing. There weren’t factions up in space: Charmaine had everything running smoothly- most were loyal to her out of gratitude for overthrowing the Warden. Down here, it’s different.”

“What’s your feeling on McCreary?”

“John’s friend?”

Clarke nods.

“He was removed from Head of Security about a year after they picked us up. John says he was happy about the change.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“Who in power ever likes a demotion?”

“Well, he’s just been called to the council. And with a council seat open, my bet is that he’s about to regain some of that power he lost.”

Echo cocks her head. “You think he killed your man in the woods?”

“Do you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him. But he was on a work shift with me all day yesterday. He didn’t leave camp.”

“Do you know who did?”

“Everyone who had hunting shifts,” Echo says quietly. “And anyone could have left camp and come back if they weren’t scheduled to work. And you, of course.”

“Right. And currently I’m the prime suspect for it.”

“I’ll keep my eye out,” Echo promises. “And I’ll let you know if I hear anything. Be careful, Clarke.”

“You too,” Clarke says and gives Echo a companionably pat on the shoulder before wheeling and dropping away from their walk. She’s overdue to find Madi, misses the little girl’s comforting presence. 

She finds her with Raven and Zeke in the Mechanic’s Crab. Madi is enthusiastically sorting bolts and screws into different piles, and Clarke hears her chiding Zeke as he teases her with made up names for them.

“Do you ever have a work detail?” Clarke can’t help but laugh at him as she hugs Madi hello.

“I’m taking time off for mourning,” Zeke says dramatically, dropping a bolt he was fiddling with back into one of the piles. “Raven has officially declared ‘07 dead. She’ll never fly again.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Raven’s muffled voice says from beneath a rough frame of a Rover-like car. For a being made of scrap parts, it’s looking pretty good, at least from Clarke’s limited knowledge of Rover-repair. “She already flew her last, you knew that.”

“A man can always hope,” Zeke laments. 

“Is that why you’re still holding out that Echo’s going to come around?” Raven asks as she slides out from underneath the body and slides her goggles up her face. 

“Fuck off,” Zeke mutters and then claps a hand over his mouth and looks at Madi. “I mean-”

“It’s ok,” Madi giggles. “Clarke says that all the time.”

“Not all the time, Madi,” Clarke says. She hugs the little girl again. “How was your day? Everything ok?”

“Yes, Clarke,” Madi says, barely containing an eyeroll. “Raven and I hung out all day.”

“Good. Nothing weird happened?”

“What would happen?” Madi asks but over her head, Raven shakes her head. They missed the commotion then, of Bellamy and Clarke returning Gordon’s body to camp. Clarke’s glad, Madi doesn’t need to see the horror of the body. She should still know though.

“Madi, sweetheart,” Clarke says, stroking Madi’s face gently. “Someone got killed yesterday, and for a minute they thought I did it. I didn’t,” she reassures Madi quickly. “But I wanted to make sure no one came to bother you about it.”

“No,” Madi says, glancing anxiously at Raven and Zeke. “Clarke, are we in trouble?”

“No, Bellamy has our back,” Clarke assures her quietly. “But I just want you to be careful ok? Until this gets settled, I want you to stay close to me, Raven, Echo, or Bellamy. We’ll look out for you.”

“I’m insulted I didn’t make the list,” Zeke says, and Clarke glances at him carefully, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

“I didn’t want to presume-”

“That I wasn’t a mudering asshat? I mean,” Zeke sputters when Madi giggles. 

“Clarke doesn’t say that one,” Madi says. 

“And don’t you start,” Clarke advises her. “I didn’t want to presume you wanted to get between your people and us.”

“My people all died a long time ago,” Zeke says quietly. “Back when the world ended.”

Clarke glances at Raven carefully. Raven gives her a subtle nod. If she still trusts Zeke after what Clarke showed her on the holo-tablet, then Clarke figures he’s alright. Just alright though. “Alright, add Zeke to the list, ok?”

“Ok,” Madi agrees, and Clarke pulls her into a final hug.

“But only when Raven or someone else is around,” she whispers into Madi’s hair. Madi just nods quietly into her shoulder.

The sound of the dinner whistle goes and Madi quickly scribbles down her counts for Raven before she jumps up and tugs on Clarke’s hand. The four of them shut down the workshop with relative speed and then tumble out into the fresh air again, Madi bouncing up and down and giggling with Raven whenthey nearly run straight into a man with a pinched and pockmarked face. His greasy hair is pushed back on his head and he’s got dark, closet set eyes and sallow skin. Clarke can’t help her small gasp, because she’s seen this face before– on the grainey security feed from Bellamy’s cell. The man, ‘Dotolo’ Charmaine had called him, is brandishing a rifle with the casual air of someone who has little skill in using it, but a great deal of confidence from holding it.

“So there you are, Shaw,” Dotolo drawls in an accent that’s similar to Shaw’s in its broquish tumble. “I wanted to come share the news, personally.”

Zeke visibly stiffens and to Clarke’s surprise steps up between Raven, herself and Madi. 

“What do you want, Dotolo?”

“Maybe you didn’t hear, Shaw, but McCreary’s been reinstated to Head of Security. Which means pussies like you,” he sneers, shoving Zeke’s shoulder so hard the Zeke stumbles back. “Better watch your fucking backs.”

“Hey!” Raven snaps but Zeke throws his arm out and catches her.

“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” Zeke murmurs to her. “Come on, let’s just go.”

“Yeah, you better fucking walk away,” Dotolo shouts after him. “Go beat one out of that sad little prick of yours thinking about what it’s like to be a real man.”

Madi shrinks into Clarke’s side and Clarke curls around her protectively. “It’s ok, ignore him, Madi. Come on, let’s get some dinner.”

Zeke turns back around, body barely containing the tremble of rage that his voice masks less well. “Dotolo, just because you’re licking McCreary’s boots don’t mean you get your run of this place. Charmaine and the council still keep the peace, don’t they?”

“We’ll see about that,” Dotolo smirks. “Have a nice dinner. Might be the last a snitch like you gets to taste.” He sticks his tongue out at Zeke and then flicks his wrist sharply, miming cutting it out.

“If you’re threatening people, I’d watch your own back,” Zeke advises, and there’s a steely edge to him suddenly that Clarke hasn’t seen. The joyrider-turned-kidnapper-turned-miner may not have gone away for a violent offense, but a hundred years of time hadn’t left him unaffected. “You’ve made enough enemies that not even McCreary can keep you safe if you push too hard.”

Dotolo laughs, ugly and cruel and then spits on the ground in Zeke’s direction. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? Sleep with an eye open.” He shoulders his rifle, the gun swinging dangerously and strides away, shouting loudly to a friend.

“Fucker,” Zeke murmurs. 

“Bad blood?” Clarke asks, trying not to feel shaken as she smoothes a hand down Madi’s hair. It’s the first outright hostility she’s seen between the crew.

“Dotolo used to be a cellmate of mine. He was briefly security, and then the Captain found out he had unorthodox ways of doling out punishment after hours. When I told Charmaine, she put a stop to it.” Zeke says, glancing carefully at Madi. 

“But he said McCreary’s back to being Head of Security…”

“And he was always McCreary’s right hand man.”

“Why would Charmaine let this happen? If she wants to keep peace…”

“Politicking only goes so far,” Zeke says quietly. “When you’re working with criminals, usually power and fear are the most effective ways to establish dominance.”

“You sound like you’re in a nature documentary,” Raven says wryly. “Come on, ignore Dotolo. You know he can’t actually do anything to you, not while Charmaine is in charge. Let’s get some food.”

Clarke’s not so sure about Raven’s assessment but she smiles tightly at Madi and they weave their way through the crowd heading toward the MessCrab. 

“All the same,” Zeke says, heedless of the people around them. “This camp would be better off if Dotolo was out of the picture.” 

Privately, vindictively, Clarke agrees. 

They settle with their food around the usual campfire, Echo and the others joining until the only one missing is Bellamy, but that’s to be expected. Clarke finds that she’s at once starving but unable to stomach portions of meat that’ve been lumped onto her plate. She lets Madi sit between her legs instead and combs out some of her messier braids with her fingers and reworks them as Madi quietly eats her own dinner. Clarke tries to let her own tension and anxiety go, as Madi has always been quick to pick up on her moods, but it’s hard to let the anxiety of the afternoon and evening slide away. Too much has happened and too much, it seems, has changed without her fully knowing what any of it means.

She tries to smile when Madi peers back at her, but judging by Madi’s somber expression, she’s not fooled. 

“Hey,” Clarke says leaning forward so that only Madi can hear her. “What do you think the chickens are up to right now?”

That gets a giggle out of Madi, who’s always loved reporting to Clarke on the antics of their small flock of hens. “I think Shocktop and Maisy are fighting over bugs. And Strider and Goose are gossiping about it.”

“I bet you’re right,” Clarke says with her own smile, resting her cheek against Madi’s temple. “And Nitwit is probably confusing dust for bugs again.”

Madi snorts at the thought of the dumbest of their chickens, that has a bad habit of staring off into space for far too long, and getting separated from the rest of her flock due to what they’ve decided is a bad sense of direction. 

They’re just about to call it a night and head back up to the Rover when Clarke catches sight of Bellamy’s dark hair just on the other side of the fire. She’s sitting next to Echo, so she’s not sure if it’s Echo or herself that’s drawn Bellamy’s attention, but when they make eye contact, Bellamy gives her a brief nod and turns away, clearly still on some late night patrol shift. 

“Madi, I’ll be right back ok?” Clarke asks, and Madi, who’s leaning in Echo’s lap and murmuring sleepily in Trigedasleng to her just nods.

Clarke pushes herself up and heads in the direction she saw Bellamy go. It doesn’t take more than a minute to catch up with him his pace unhurried.

“Blake,” Clarke calls. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Bellamy nods and pauses, waiting for her catch up. Clarke flashes a smile at him. 

“What’s up, Treehugger?”

“I just wanted to say thank you. Um. For coming through for me like that. I didn’t get to say it before, and I wanted you to know how grateful I am.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” Bellamy says, somewhat defensively. “It was the right thing to do. You didn’t kill him.” 

“Hey,” Clarke says gently. “A lot of people wouldn’t stand up for someone they didn’t know against Charmaine. Or at least that’s the sense I’m getting.”

“But I do-” Bellamy starts and then abruptly stops speaking, frowning like he’s not sure what was about to come out of his mouth. “Uh,” he says, shaking his head. “Yeah. It’s not a problem really. I learned a long time ago weapons don’t prove guilt.”

The initials, _J.M._ scratched roughly into knifeand a red light filtered tent float from the past and Clarke looks down and smiles. “What?” Bellamy grunts at her.

“Nothing.”

“It’s something,” Bellamy grumbles but he doesn’t push it.

They stand in peaceable quiet for a moment, the sounds of the camp blending the buzz of cicadas in the woods. Clarke wants to ask about McCreary, about what happened after she left the council, but she can’t quite bring herself to. Not now, when the dusky moonlight filters down to them amidst the now blue and purple leaves and casts shadows across Bellamy’s face that make him ageless as he looks up at a bird call overhead. Clarke almost feels like they’re back at the dropship, all those years ago- tentative allies a little confused about how they ended up on the same side. It’s a surprising comfort, a second of relief in the midst of this mess, and Clarke realizes they’re both savoring it. Clarke closes her eyes and drinks in the quiet and the rich damp smell of the earth after rain. She’ll never grow tired of it.

Bellamy’s hand ever so gently claps her shoulder, lingers for a moment. “You need to be careful, ok? If this was a set up, it won’t end here.”

“I know. But there’s only so much I can do,” Clarke says, opening her eyes and looking back up at Bellamy. “They already almost killed Madi. I’m an easy scapegoat, I don’t know how these people work. I’m not one of you.”

“There are things you can do to protect yourself. Lie low, and stick close to camp, for one. Don’t wander off on your own. Don’t give someone an opportunity to frame you.” There’s a funny note to Bellamy’s voice that Clarke hasn’t heard in a long, long time. It’s not pleading, not quite, but there’s the softest hint of the Bellamy she used to know. “And if you gotta go off, let me know, ok? I’ll come with you, or send someone I trust with you.”

“Bellamy?” Clarke whispers, before she can stop herself, too hopeful and wondering if the singularity of this moment has reached him. But the openness of Bellamy’s face shutters and closes instantly at the sound of his name on her voice. 

He steps back abruptly and crosses his arms behind his back. “We good? Anything else you wanted?”

“We’re good,” Clarke says quietly, trying not to feel defeated, to let the quiet rejection ruin the moment between them. “Thanks again.”

Bellamy nods and then turns away. Clarke watches him go, back toward the glow of campfires and gives herself a little shake. She needs to stop trying to reach him, she knows that. If they’re going to build anything out of the rubble, she needs to let the old Bellamy go. But even as she tells herself that, another part of her whispers that she’s never been good at giving up on Bellamy Blake.

She tries to quiet that as best she can, and then goes to get Madi.

~~ ~~

The camp is finally quiet by the time Bellamy finishes his patrol rounds and heads back to his tent. His head hurts tonight, like it usually does these days, but it’s less of the buzzing that threatens to become roaring noise, and more just a deep, heavy pressure behind his eyes and forehead. 

His tent is empty, which is a surprise, since Echo has been with him most nights of the last few weeks. He pauses, taken aback by her absence, and then walks the few short feet to her tent. 

“Echo?” He calls softly. There’s a moment’s quiet, and then a soft rustling, and Echo appears in the flap of her tent. “Hey,” he says with a grin. “Thought I lost you there.”

“Hey, Bellamy,” Echo says, her low voice soft. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good. You want to, uh.” It’s been a long time since he first invited her to his room back on the Ring. Since then she’s always seemed to know what he wants without him having to ask for it. But there’s a quiessence to her tonight that makes Bellamy hesitate. “You want to come over?”

Echo takes a quiet breath and then steps out of her tent fully. She’s changed into a loose black shirt, the one she uses to sleep in, it makes her look small and thin, despite the power that Bellamy knows she posses. Echo reaches up and ever so gently ghosts her fingers down his cheek. “I can’t remember the last time I told you that I loved you. Do you?”

Bellamy’s breath freezes in his chest and he stares at her, feeling an odd panic rise swiftly. Echo doesn’t seem surprised or hurt by his silence, she just smiles sadly as she searches his eyes. “Or maybe I never did, because I knew this was exactly how you’d look at me.”

“Echo, I-”

“I meant it when I said I’d always be here for you,” she continues quietly, like she hasn’t even heard him speak. “And if there was anyone that I would have chosen to be by my side for the past six years, I’m so lucky it was you. I need you to know that: that I love you and I’m grateful for you. Even in this whole mess we’ve ended up in.”

“Echo, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that because of that, I can’t let us do this to ourselves anymore. I’m not helping you: I’m holding you back. And I can’t do that to you. And I can’t do this to myself either.”

“You don’t want this?” Bellamy asks.

Echo looks at him almost helplessly. “Of course I do. But being with you, _hedkrippa_ or no, it’s not actually us. What we had on the ring, that is what I want. And we’re closer to that than we’ve been in a long, long time. But we both know why that is.”

“I’m trying,” Bellamy says, wishing he could touch her, wishing he could kiss her and try to show her how much she means to him. “I’m trying to get better, to be better. Just tell me what-”

“I know you are, _ai niron_ ,” Echo whispers and he realizes there are tears in her eyes. “But you won’t let yourself realize why you are, not as long as I let you fall back on me.”

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy manages, his throat clogged with emotion. 

Echo gives him a long, quiet look. She’s always had a knack for looking through him, seeing parts of him he wished she couldn’t. “I’m talking about Clarke, Bellamy.”

“She’s dead, Echo, she’s-“

“She’s alive, Bellamy. You know that and you need to face it, because until you do, you aren’t going to get past the _hedkrippa_.”

Bellamy shakes his head, can’t process what she’s saying because the buzzing is back and the clawing, cloying darkness is rising too quickly. His vision is starting to spot but he fights it down. He owes Echo this graceful exit, he owes her so much.

“I’m sorry,” is all he can say. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t ever lose me,” Echo murmurs, and then her cold fingers press into his temples, comforting him, and she rests her forehead against his own. “But you need to face this without me now.”

He feels her tears on his cheeks and he wants to do so much- beg her stay, try to make up for all the time he couldn’t give her. But he knows that’s not what she wants. And because they haven’t been more the nightly companions for so long, there is no way to end this- no touch he can give her, nothing he can say, except. “Ok. Ok. _Ai hod yu in._ ”

Echo chokes on a soft, keened laugh, drawing back, head ducked so he can’t see her face and the wreckage of tears. “Sleep well, Bellamy.”

Through the spots in his vision, he just makes it back to his tent. He knows Echo is right, he can’t keep putting her through this. He’s not getting better, and he can’t be better when it’s all he can do to get through the night. She deserves more, and he can’t give it to her, not with the darkness that claims him.

“Please,” he whispers, to no one. He’s alone. There isn’t anyone but himself who can help him now. “I just want it to stop.”

But it doesn’t. Reality fades and someone’s whispering, pleading voice takes its place and screams echo in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


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